


12 Days of Yuletide Wooing

by NightReaderEnigma



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: 12 Days of Christmas, Canon Compliant, Christmas Fluff, Eventual Smut, Every cliche I could cram in is pretty much there, Explicit Language, F/M, Family, Feel-good, First Time, Gift Giving, Holiday Happiness, Humor, Jaime is Determined to Woo his Wench, Love Confessions, Marriage, Or rather the Westeros equivalent - Yuletide, POV Brienne of Tarth, POV Jaime Lannister, Post-Canon, Resolved Sexual Tension, Romance, Sexual Content, Smut, Some UST, Sweet, True Love, Winter, eventual scenes of a descriptive sexual nature, lots more characters than mentioned but can't spoil the surprises!, lots of feelings, more sickly sweet than a candy cane wrapped in a marshmallow, some slow burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-12
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:48:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 44,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21768625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightReaderEnigma/pseuds/NightReaderEnigma
Summary: “I trusted you.”“What?”“When you came into my camp and told me that ludicrous concoction about Sansa and the Hound - I followed you. I did as you bade and went with you - even though it meant risking everything - because I trust you.  After all we have been through- have I not earnt the same in return?”She worked her jaw, like a cow chewing its cud. Her expressive face openly displaying her indecision.“The Septon is just outside and a Maester to stand as witness. I have already surrendered my place in the Kingsguard – they insisted it be done upfront before I could even talk to you, so one way or another, I am out of this game and bound for my childhood home.” He held out his left hand, palm facing upwards. “Marry me. We will work out the complexities later on. Just place your faith in me this once.”#######When Jaime rode off into the Riverlands with Brienne- he realised he was madly in love with her.  When her life was in danger, the only way he could save his Wench was through their marriage and escape to Casterly Rock.When Winter arrives, Yuletide celebrations descend upon Westeros and Jaime uses the holidays to endear himself to his new wife...
Relationships: Jaime Lannister & Brienne of Tarth, Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 370
Kudos: 474
Collections: JB Online 2019 Advent Calendar Collection





	1. Premise

**Author's Note:**

> [](https://www.flickr.com/photos/185980079@N02/49211612893/in/dateposted-public/)  
> So it turns out I am not immune to the urge of writing a Braime 'Christmas Fic.' :D Though for the purposes of Westeros we are going to refer to it as Yuletide. The following tale is an unabashed, saccharine sweet, fluff-fest. If you are seeking quality storytelling, I'm sorry, I'll be honest - this isn't the adventure for you.  
> All mistakes are mine and I apologise upfront!  
> This is a 'why not' feel good piece of fun I am writing just to get in the festive spirit, loosely inspired by 'The Twelve Days of Christmas.' Today I am launching the 'Premise' Chapter for a bit of background information. Then from tomorrow the countdown of the 12 Days of Yuletide begins!
> 
> A huge thank you goes out to Ro_Nordmann for creating this gorgeous cover art!  
> I was super excited to receive it and I absolutely love it! <3

“She is innocent.” Ser Jaime glared at the councilmen whom he addressed. “These accusations of treason are absurd!”

“Are they?” Lord Mace tented his fingers, leaning forward in his oaken throne. The ridiculous hand shaped chair which he believed made him appear grandiose. “The Lady in question persuaded you – Lord Commander of the Kingsguard – to abandon your post, where you were going about His Majesty’s work. Manipulated you to ride off into the woodlands without retinue nor men, effectively luring you to your death at the hands of the outlaw Brotherhood.” Leaning back Tyrell shrugged. “Sounds rather treasonous to me. If your men had not possessed the foresight to follow you and raided that cave, both yourself and the prisoner would not be here to tell the tale.”

“I went of my own volition! She was acting on _my_ orders. If you wish to persecute somebody, then let it be me.”

“Oh no.” The Hand of the King shook his head. “That our Queen Regent would not sanction.”

_Of course not – she wants me to suffer._

Ire dripped from his pores, taking the form of panicked perspiration. They had Brienne down in the dungeons, awaiting her ‘trial’ which Jaime new was tantamount to execution.

_The gloves are off sweet sister. I refused to fight the Faith for you, so you would punish my companion and make me watch._

Jaime did not know precisely when his regard for the Maid of Tarth had transformed. Perhaps it was when she strode into his tent, looking like something the cat had dragged in with a bandaged cheek and the burn from a noose branded deep into her speckled ivory skin. Or mayhaps when they rode side by side, their horses’ hooves pounding the ground as he pursued both his honour and this inexplicable tugging upon his heartstrings. Compelling him to follow her to the ends of the earth and back again.

But by the time they lay in their bedrolls beneath a starlit sky, the fire crackling and her ragged breathing misting the night air, Jaime Lannister realised his love had been given. Settling upon this atypical creature – a Maiden from a time when Knights were exemplary, innocents were worth protecting and oaths were kept with unwavering devotion. 

“Cersei awaits a trial herself.” The lion growled through gritted teeth. “She is not in a position to judge.”

“Yet judge she will.” Lord Randyll was stony faced. Jaime had thought Stannis Baratheon had no rival for the title ‘Hardest Man in Westeros’ but now he acknowledged that their new Master of Laws would give him a run for his money.

“You oversee the laws-“ Jaime spat. “-can you not smooth the path?”

“The Lady of Tarth will be given the same options at trial as everyone. She has the right to choose Trial by Combat if she thinks the Crown and Council unfair.”

Now Jaime’s blood ran cold. _And that is the option she will take….._

Brienne was skilful with a blade – stubborn, large and unconventionally strong. But she would not stand a chance against his sister’s champion. A monstrosity of pallid flesh and inhuman might. His mind was flooded with images of his sweet wench, her idealistic head being crushed between Robert Strong’s meaty hands.

_I cannot let that happen._

“Why did you call me here if the verdict is set?” He directed a withering gaze at the men in turn, an expression taught by his Father which he hoped he had mastered. “You would have me convinced it is all rather futile and have gone to great lengths to instil this opinion. Well, congratulations. I believe. So what is the crux? You did not summon me in the middle of the night to bandy words.”

He had not been asleep anyhow. He had been up past the hour of the bat; plotting every twist and turn he could recall of the secret tunnels. Brainstorming how he would smuggle her out of her prison cell. But when he had stepped beyond his chamber doors, a flash of a robe retreated around a distant corner. Qyburn was watching him. His sister had eyes all over the Keep. None of his moves would be unmonitored. No doubt she already knew this illicit meeting was taking place.

It added to his sense of urgency. Fearful that at this very moment Brienne was being murdered, tortured or worse still….

The three men; Lord Mace, Lord Randyll and Lord Garth exchanged knowing looks. The Hand of the King, Master of Laws and Master of Coin bound by allegiances which had withstood the test of time.

“The Queen Regent suspects you have a certain _fondness_ for the Maid.” Garth the Gross tittered as he purposefully emphasised the word. “If she chooses Trial by Combat – you can champion her and then you both die or she will battle and you will watch her die. If she chooses Trial by the Crown, you will be called to testify against her.”

“What?!” Jaime was aghast.

“There are only two true witnesses.” Lord Tarly explained. “The case against her rests largely on your testimony, the evidence found upon her – the letter and the Valyrian Blade - can only be explained by you. The same is true of your conversations in the lead up to your unscheduled departure from your camp. The Queen Regent wants you both to condemn yourselves in public. Either by obviously lying under oath or by renouncing your association. Both of which would be incriminating and render us unable to intervene….”

Jaime raised an eyebrow. “Do you intend to intervene?”

“We can turn the trial in the Maid of Tarth’s favour. The other evidence is weak, hearsay and easily dismissed.” The Hand smiled calculatingly. “We have the numbers and law on our side – if you capitulate.”

The Lord of Lannister’s mind ran in loops, trying to second guess their game – but Brienne’s safety was at stake and he was running out of time and options. 

“Name your terms.”

“You renounce your position on the Kingsguard.” Mace held his head high. “Clearing the way for Ser Loras to be named Lord Commander.”

_It is what my Father always wanted but that would mean leaving Tommen…_

“I mean no offence Lord Tyrell but last I heard your whelp is upon death’s door….”

“If the Stranger means to claim him, let it be when has the highest honours for a Knight of the Seven Kingdoms. And if he lives… he can take his place upon the council at my side.”

_Ahhhh, so that is their game. Removing the Lannister’s from their positions of power one by one…._

“Where would you have me go?”

“You will return to Casterly Rock. Rallying the Western Armies and ensuring the King’s Peace is maintained in a display of fealty and continued loyalty – with your new wife at your side.”

“Excuse me?” Jaime blinked twice. “Can you repeat that? I fear I must have misheard.”

“Spousal privilege.” Randyll Tarly’s brusque voice sliced clean through the room. “A man and wife cannot be called to testify against each other. It is considered an offence to the Gods and breach of marital relations.”

“Lord Selwyn is a proud man - he commands an impressive fleet - which I am sure he will permit the Crown usage of once his daughter is bound to the King’s own family.” Garth Tyrell’s smile was quite unnerving, not just because of his unattractive appearance. “Thus ensuring the continued co-operation between the Stormlands and the Council. Their island is one of the main outposts that lie between Westeros and Essos. Times are unsettled Ser Jaime; Dragonstone is under our control, strategically Tarth is next.”

“Leave the Kingsguard, take Lady Brienne to Wife. Ride to Casterly Rock and leave the governance of the Seven Kingdoms to the new Small Council.” Lord Mace spread both hands in front of him. “Those are our terms.”

“But only half the battle.” Jaime chuckled despite the dire situation. “You don’t know the wench.”

########

“Brienne – think about it.” The second level of dungeon cells were dark, the sconces casting scant light through the bars. He shuddered to think she had been here for a day. “If you die needlessly your Oaths will never be fulfilled.”

“Already I have failed Lady Catelyn twice.” She sat despondently upon the filthy, stony ground. “Perhaps my death is deserved.”

“You can hardly call that thing Catelyn Stark.” Jaime paced the small confines like a caged animal. “Whatever that monster was you hardly owed her loyalty. Besides my men slew her, the killing blow did not come from your hand.”

“But I intended it… I was resolved to end her second life. If the Gods peer into my intentions tomorrow they will know my soul unworthy.”

“Don’t be dramatic wench.” He nudged her leg with his boot. “One day you can still find the Stark girls, if you give this plan a chance.”

“How exactly?!” The warrior woman leapt to her feet with a speed which continually astonished him. Her deep voice echoing in the small space. “By becoming a captive of a different kind? Your prisoner instead of the Crown’s? You know a certain liberation lies in an honourable death.”

“You would rather die than marry me?” The hurt was barely masked by his defensive tone.

“I told you once I would not serve the Lannisters.”

“I am not asking you to serve ‘the Lannisters’ I am asking you to live. Come on a trek to the Westerlands with me.” His attempt to undermine the seriousness of the situation wasn’t working.

“And my Father’s fleet?” She glared him down. “Providing the council with ships indeed sounds like the forging of an alliance.” 

“That’s between him and the Tyrells. Let them sort it out. The lion’s claws are slipping Brienne, the Lannister hold on the Iron Throne is tenuous at best. But we can choose not to become a casualty of their thirst for power if you will just bend.”

She scoffed loudly. “Bend? Is that what you call spending your existence bound to someone? Abandoning your home and name and everything you’ve ever known. Tell me Jaime, what is expected of a Lady of the Rock? Flawless manners, perfect appearance, lilting of laugh and quick of wit? How many children will you be demanding? How quickly? It seems I am exchanging a cell for a life sentence. A sword for a noose all over again…”

He gripped her arm. “When have I ever said that I wanted to change you?”

Roughly shrugging him off she declared. “To even propose this solution is trying to force me into a corner.”

“I am trying to save you pig-headed woman!” He hadn’t mean to shout but at least it stopped her in her tracks. Nostrils flaring and blue eyes awash with restrained tears.

Taking a deep breath Jaime mentally catalogued his options.

_I cannot tell her that I care for her – that she would never believe._

_She would think it mockery and it would seal her decision and fate._

_No, there must be another way…_

“I trusted you.”

“What?”

Jaime stalked closer to her, maintaining steady eye contact. “When you came into my camp and told me that ludicrous concoction about Sansa and the Hound - I followed you. I did as you bade and went with you - even though it meant risking everything - because I trust you.” He swallowed. “After all we have been through - have I not earnt the same in return?”

She worked her jaw, like a cow chewing its cud. Her expressive face openly displaying her indecision.

“The Septon is just outside and a Maester to stand as witness. I have already surrendered my place in the Kingsguard – they insisted it be done upfront before I could even talk to you, so one way or another, I am out of this game and bound for my childhood home.” He held out his left hand, palm facing upwards. “Marry me. We will work out the complexities later on. Just place your faith in me this once.”

He saw the gulp constrict the muscles in her thick neck, the fear and hesitation waging a bitter war.

But finally she relented, silently nodding and accepting his hand.

########

The road to the West was long and cold. Crystalline snowflakes falling from the sky, like the Gods above had ripped open a goose-down quilt and the feathers descended slowly upon them.

“Whilst you were off galivanting in the Riverlands, the Citadel officially declared it Winter.” Ser Addam called cheerfully, reining up his horse beside Jaime’s. His old friend had been happy to form part of their escort. He would ride half the way with them, before breaking off with a small retinue to check on Riverrun and ensure the transition of leadership continued to run smoothly. “You best advise your wife to shelter inside the carriage – the weather will only worsen from here.”

Jaime peered at Brienne, sitting astride her own horse, riding purposefully ahead of him and sullenly silent. “That’s where you are wrong Addam – I cannot tell the wench to do anything and she would rather freeze to death than admit weakness. If the men ride – so does she.”

“Never thought I would see the day.” The Knight laughed. “When Jaime Lannister is both married and henpecked.”

“Well she is something different entirely…” Jaime smiled, watching her longingly.

Their ceremony had been hasty, as had the relocation to one of the cells on a higher level. The small rooms intended for the noble prisoners, furnished with a bed, a table holding a jug of water and tiny windows near the ceiling.

“A marriage is not complete until it is consummated.” Lord Tarly had declared. “We will return for you both in the morning.”

As they were securely bolted in, the lion had chuckled.

“Well here we find ourselves wife – what do you make of it? Strange turn of events I will grant you.”

Brienne had sat hesitantly upon the mattress, drawing her knees up to her chest and looking every bit her young age.

“You know my feelings on the matter.” She mumbled. “Now you expect me to perform as a wife should.”

“I take it you do not wish to share a bed?”

Her silence spoke volumes as he strolled the circumference of the room, looking for anything sharp.

_Damn them for taking my dagger._

“I know my duties Ser….” Her resigned tone took on a puzzled quality as he crawled beneath the table to retrieve a shard of broken pottery. Presumably a previous pitcher has bore the brunt of a prisoner's rage. “…. what are you doing?”

Standing upright and rolling back the sleeve of his stumped arm, Jaime smiled at her. “My Lady – you will invite me to your furs when you are ready and not a second sooner. I have no intention of committing a hypocrisy to add to my list of misdeeds. I spared you a ravishing once, not so I could perpetrate the same crime myself years later.”

She watched him make a small cut in his arm, the crimson dripping forth. “Now throw back the covers please Wench. They will check for evidence in the morning…”

Her flaxen head bobbed ahead of him with the steady gait of her horse. He almost couldn’t believe they had managed to secure their emancipation, that all the individual cogs had aligned and turned precisely, setting them both free.

“You stare at her like a love-struck fool.” Addam slapped him on the back. “When did this happen?”

“Too long and far too complicated a story to relay I’m afraid.” The Lannister shrugged apologetically. “Maybe one day over ale?”

“Alright but you are buying. You’re Lord of Casterly Rock now, your pockets run deep.”

“So they do…” Jaime halted his horse suddenly thoughtful. “Addam! With the announcement of Winter does that mean Yule will shortly be upon us?”

“Aye. The Citadel has declared it in only a few turns of the moon. Fear not – unless a blizzard hits early in the season, your party will reach the Rock with plenty of time.”

His mind was already away, hatching plans and making arrangements.

Yuletide celebrations only came with the Winter and it had been years since the occasion was observed.

Twelve days of gift giving leading up to Yuletide Day – a time for family, friends and loved ones to rejoice.

_The perfect opportunity to woo my beloved…_

“Continue on Ser Marbrand! I will be detouring to the closest town. I have some arrangements to make.”


	2. 12 Days Before Yuletide...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Begins with Brienne's POV, Ends with Jaime's POV
> 
> Let the fluff commence! LOL  
> (Thank you again to Ro_Nordmann for the beautiful cover! )  
> [](https://www.flickr.com/photos/185980079@N02/49211612893/in/dateposted-public/)

By the looks of it, the morning was freezing, a crisp white blanket of snow covering the ground.

Brienne sat up in the lavish bed, throwing back crimson covers and watching the outside world.

This had become her new routine upon waking as she acclimatised to life at Casterly Rock, a realm literally and geographically opposite to her own.

Slipping on her cloak she approached the window, enjoying the high vantage point of her chambers, the panoramic view extending as far as the eye could see.

_Twelve days until Yuletide… the festivities commence._

She briefly wondered what her Father would be doing, the observation of the holiday vastly different on her island abode. Here - as predicted - everything was done in excess, the wealth and superiority of the Lannister lieges on near permanent display. Festivals in the townships and decorations down all the hallways. Banquets every night and candles in every window. It would be a time for beauty, a chance to enjoy the pristine splendour of the Winter before the bleaker realities became prevalent as the season wore on. A cause for celebration, surrounded by those you cared about…

Brienne felt a twinge of guilt as she turned from the window seat, surveying the vast empty room. She was a married woman now, her bower should be shared with her husband at least on occasion, especially in this cold weather. Allowing him his right to slip between her sheets, spooning for warmth until bodily urges took hold, gratifying him within her until she became rounded with his child.

Such was her duty – but the for first time in her life she had been actively avoiding her responsibilities. Fuelled by lingering resentments that Jaime had hoodwinked her into becoming his property. An acquisition with strategical advantage, like lands or a sellsword. A low level cyvasse piece – where the decision was sacrifice or play. 

_If only it had been for different reasons…_

Glancing back at the window she exhaled a shaky breath, continuing to watch the snowfall and lament the way her marriage to Jaime had come about.

Dreams were as fragile as that frozen lace. Not designed for human contact lest they dissolve upon your palm. The delicate miracle of their impossible hope evaporating into oblivion, until you could only mourn the beauty that had been – but that could never be recovered.

She shook her head harshly to clear her thoughts, berating herself in the process. 

_Wishes and romantic fancy will not serve you well._

A gentle knock rapped upon her door, heralding the arrival of one of her many serving women, the attendant twinkling cheerily as she carried in the tea tray.

“Good Morning My Lady. Happy Twelfth Day before Yuletide.”

“And the same to you Gloria.” Brienne smiled warmly in response and felt it tug at the gnarled flesh of her cheek. The scarred tissue now healed but none the less hideous.

_Here I am thinking such foolishness - as though denying Jaime a place in my bed is actually of disappointment to him._

_My maids are comelier than I._

The young woman smiled and handed Brienne one of the fine porcelain cups. It was beautifully hand-painted for the season, with intricately patterned sprigs of holly adorning the rims – and of course encircling the proud lion of Lannister insignia.

_Is there any place they don’t proclaim it?_

“Can I be fetching ye anything else Mistress? A bath perhaps or maybe you would prefer spiced milk? The cooks are breaking out all the festive recipes and the kitchens smell lovely.”

“No thank you, I am content with the tea. I will dress myself this morning.” 

She sometimes allowed her ladies to assist her, although it made her immensely uncomfortable. When she initially refused, they had seemed so crestfallen and at a loss that it made her relent. Though having a handful of attractive attendants fuss over her was an utterly pointless and humiliating exercise.

_Try as they may – my looks are not going to improve._

An envelope caught her eye. It sat upon the tray, wax sealed, her name written across the front of it in what looked like childish scrawl.

Her cup clinked painfully as she placed it down upon the saucer and she winced. _I am always too rough with these fine things…_

“Gloria… before you go, may I ask what this is?” She lifted the cryptic correspondence, fingering it gingerly. Upon turning it over she found that ‘Wench’ was emblazoned upon the opposite side.

_He writes with his left hand…the penmanship is Jaime’s._

“Lord Lannister asked me to ensure it was placed upon your tray this morning. Of its contents I would not know.”

Brienne nodded. “Thank you, Gloria. That will be all.”

“Of course, My Lady.” 

Bowing politely the serving girl departed, leaving Brienne alone with the parchment.

Seizing her tea in one hand she crossed back to the windowseat, cringing as liquid sloshed over the side and into the saucer. _Will I ever get the knack of this?_

Curling up against the cushions, she balanced the beverage upon her thigh before breaking the wax seal with her long, calloused digits. The letter was entirely written in Jaime’s hand and she found herself having to stop intermittently as she read to decipher some of the misshapen letters and discern the word.

_Whatever its purpose – he went to immense effort. This must have taken him hours…_

____________________________________________________________________________

**_My dearest Wife Brienne,_ **

****

**_I know this marriage is not what you wanted and I am sorry to be the cause of your distress._ **

**_Believe me when I say that my foremost motivations were to protect you and keep you alive to annoy me another day._ **

****

**__________________________________________________________________________________ **

****

****

A smirk flittered across her features as she read his words. _If he is anything – he is candid._

**_________________________________________________________________________________ **

****

**_I hope that you are adjusting to life at Casterly Rock and that you may someday be content to call it home. I can assure you it has vastly improved since the days of my Father’s reign and that I intend to be a far more congenial Lord. But I digress…_ **

****

**_I have left you to your own devices this last fortnight, in order for you to settle. I did not want you to feel pressured to remain by my side nor to feel I was breathing down your neck._ **

**_But now it is the beginning of Yuletide and it is my festive wish that you will grant me the pleasure of your company._ **

****

**_I know what you are probably thinking… when has our association ever been pleasurable?_ **

**_Well below I have listed a dozen reasons why we should begin to spend more time together._ **

**_If you disagree with any – come and argue with me about it. I would consider that act in itself a very good start…_ **

****

  1. **_How can it get worse? This is an odd sort of argument but as this is a letter you have no choice but to hear me out._** ** _We have been enemies; we have been captives and we have been unlikely allies. I have lost a hand, we have faced a bear, we have crossed swords – I have stabbed you in the thigh and you sliced above my eye. I think we have endured the worst that our relationship has to offer Wench… I would wager it can only improve from here on in._**
  2. **_Everyone here is agreeing with me. I am the Lord of the Rock and their unctuous, obsequious behaviour is nauseating. I need someone to tell me when I am being an idiot – and you are just the woman to do it_**
  3. **_The rumours are running wild. Gossip is circulating in the villages that I have gone as mad as the King I slew. That is why I was dismissed from the Kingsguard. Another tale has us eloping after the bear pit. You fought the bear naked – did you know? In this version I went mad with lust. There are a hundred variations, each more ludicrous and fascinating than the last. And the only other person who can appreciate their ridiculousness with me – is you._**
  4. **_I smuggled something interesting from King’s Landing which I wish to show you. A wedding gift to myself if you will. Its name is Widow’s Wail (ghastly title I know, Joffrey is to blame) – a Valyrian steel blade and the slightly smaller twin to your Oathkeeper. It was also forged from Ice. The sword is intended to be Tommen’s when he is grown but I thought in the interim I would be its caretaker. I abhor the thought of it falling into Tyrell or Dornish hands. I could not bear another to wield the partner to your sword – as your consort that honour should be mine alone. Husband and wife, proudly wearing matching steel at their hips._**
  5. **_It occurred to me that you may wish to avoid me on account of marital relations and I wish to reassure you that what I said upon our wedding night stands. I swear to you in writing that I will remain a perfect gentleman in our dealings. Now I do not promise that my mouth will adhere (it has a certain tendency to run away with me as you know) but my behaviour will be irreproachable. Your virtue will remain untouched as long as you will it to be so. Therefore, share our closeness with the ease that you once did, knowing nothing is expected of you._**
  6. **_I miss your eyes. They are the only blue in this red, gold, white and green world. Everywhere I look is snow, holly and lions. I need some sapphires to brighten my days._**
  7. **_You alone know all my secrets. I find myself thrust amongst strangers, who know little of me and the only thing they do know is my reputation. My Father chewed through staff at a rapid pace and no familiar faces remain from my childhood. Those who look at me now see the Kingslayer or the son of Tywin Lannister. I am greeted with loathing and fear, hidden behind ingratiating courtesy. I am not ashamed to say – I need you to be the balm. The person from whom I have nothing to hide._**
  8. **_In turn I am the only one who understands you. I know you think I don’t - but I do. I understand why you are so disconcerted by our marriage. I understand why you have no desire to be the Lady of the Rock. I understand what drives you and how you fear being repressed. So on that note…_**
  9. **_I have no desire to change you. I told you this in the dungeons and its as true now as it was then. The woman you are may be unconventional – but ordinary women are common and dull. I have no intention of berating you, should you choose to wield a sword. I will not be offended when you stroll into our banquet hall in leathers and muddied boots. I do not expect you to wear flouncey dresses and chat about needlepoint (I have seen you in Pink Satin and Myrish Lace and it is not a sight I wish to see replicated). And I most certainly do not mean to make you abandon your ideals. Yes – to live together we will have to learn to compromise now and then, duty will call and we both must play our ever so begrudging parts. But I am determined that being married to me will not equate to my woman surrendering her entire persona in order to adopt an unnatural façade. We are both warriors Brienne. We both adhere to the Knightly codes. I respect that and – more importantly – I respect you._**
  10. **_Of the many things we know about each other – with this marriage we still sail into unchartered waters. There is much we have yet to discover, numerous topics we have to discuss. I know this seems contradictory to my previous points but our association has changed form. We know one another as comrades – but now you need to get to know the man and I need to familiarise myself with the woman – romantically. I for one am looking forward to it. I know you will not be as keen. But you may be surprised by what you learn…_**
  11. **_My first revelation – I am glad to be married, to have a wife I can call my own. This has not always been my viewpoint - when I was younger, I saw the Kingsguard as a welcome escape from an arranged marriage. To Lysa Tully (are you shocked? I could have been Lady Catelyn’s Good Brother – ponder that!) But as I grew older, I began to see the immense appeal in being bound to another person. To have that person belong to me. What is it that we said? ‘One heart, One flesh, One soul.’ Sounds rather lovely when you put it like that. So do not think for a second I am displeased with our status. For in fact I’m quite delighted._**


  1. **_This is the big one. I saved it until last as I want it to remain in your mind. To impact upon you, so you feel it and do not forget…._**



****

**_I have fallen for you wench. No, I do not mean physically tripping over my own feet._ **

**_I am in love with you; Brienne of Tarth – most conveniently my wife (how fortunate of one to find themselves besotted with their own spouse.)_ **

****

**_This is the deep seeded reason why I married you. For I am a selfish man, driven by want and desire. And you are what I crave._ **

****

**_I know you will deny it. Screw up that freckled, crooked nose of yours and let the million and one reasons why I must be taking the piss negate the sincerity of my statements. Dismiss me as being afflicted by that aforementioned madness.…_ **

****

**_So, I avow, over the dozen days of Yuletide, to commend myself unto you._ **

****

**_To make you see and feel the gravity behind my declaration and hope in turn you may come to grow, even the slightest fondness towards me. Your husband. Your Jaime._ **

****

**_I do not expect you to address the contents of this letter with me in any way. I know it would make us both awkward and at this point in time it does not have to be discussed. I will know that you know – and that is enough._ **

****

**_In acceptance of this, I invite you to join me downstairs to break our fast._ **

**_Happy Twelfth Day before Yuletide._ **

****

**_I will be waiting…._ **

****

**_Your Lord Husband,_ **

**_Jaime_ **

**_______________________________________________________________________________ **

****

Too many thoughts and jumbled emotions swirled inside as she lowered the letter to her lap. Her tea sitting cold and untouched since she had begun reading and grown gradually paralysed by the sentiments held therein.

She simultaneously felt as though she may faint, retch, rage or cry.

But in response the Maid of Tarth decided to do what she always did…. maintain composure and exhibit courage. 

Collecting herself, she placed the stale liquid upon the tray and began to dress. Selecting from the wardrobe one of the dresses Jaime had commissioned for her by Septa Donyse back in King’s Landing. It was plain, rich cream in colour and at least its fit was accurate – even if it was a gown.

Combing her fingers messily through her hair she took a deep breath and exited her chambers.

########

Jaime beamed when Brienne entered the dining hall, scrambling to his feet as the staff pulled out the chair opposite him at the long table.

 _She actually came… she read it…. And she came._

The mahogany was covered in a vast assortment of breakfast items, the delicious aromas filling the air and creating a homey atmosphere. Fires blazed in the hearths at both ends of the immense room, garlands of holly and ivy running the walls, broken only by crimson velvet bows.

“My Lady.” He bowed deeply as his woman nodded in greeting, demurely taking her seat.

The serving staff buzzing anxiously around her, offering her various morsels and refreshments as they lay a scarlet napkin across her lap.

“Be gone.” Jaime commanded with a wave of his hand. “My wife and I can see to ourselves.”

They scurried away like rats in a sewer and the lion rolled his eyes. “I was not lying when I said the servants had gotten taxing.” He leant forward conspiratorially. “I do believe that half the rumour mill was started by them. Why just the other day I heard…”

“I care not for gossip.” Brienne carefully used her splayd to select a fried egg, delivering it to her plate. “I have had a bellyful of malicious whispers over my time – I will not give them credence nor waste air upon them.”

Jaime’s shoulders sagged. _My first attempt at conversation and already I have gone awry…._

As if sensing his disappointment, she gave him a thin half-smile. “But I would very much like to hear if you intend to rename that sword… after you’ve passed the bacon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for posting this an hour or two later than usual.  
> I was outside looking for meteors (Geminids).  
> Unsuccessfully I might add (damn moon, pretty but bright! LOL)


	3. 11 Days Before Yuletide...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [](https://www.flickr.com/photos/185980079@N02/49211612893/in/dateposted-public/)  
> Cover Art by Ro_Nordmann
> 
> POV Brienne

“My Lady…” Her drapes were thrown backwards admitting the Winter Sun, bathing her room in the dewy glow which ricocheted off the blanched wilderness. “…. I am sorry to wake you but the couturiers are here. They are awaiting you in the East Wing drawing room.”

Brienne blinked rapidly, fisting the sleep from her eyes. “I beg pardon? I arranged no tailor or seamstress. In fact, I knew nothing about this…”

“Perhaps it was his Lordship…” Gloria suggested timidly. “… but they have already been waiting for some time.”

Tossing back the covers Brienne audibly groaned.

_He could have warned me…all that time we talked yesterday over breakfast he never breathed a word…_

She positively detested clothes fittings. They were the most excruciating processes of her life, filled with pinning, prodding and chagrined facial expressions as they took her disproportionate measurements.

If she had a choice – she would rather have a broken bone reset.

_The Lady of the Rock’s torture begins…._

Irritably she whipped another of Septa Donyse’s creations off the hanger, bemoaning why there was not adequate supply of garments to spare her from this distress.

“Tell them I shall be down presently.”

########

“Lady Lannister!”

Brienne was doubly taken aback – rocked by the jolt of hearing her new title and the irregularity of finding both a man and a woman awaiting her.

 _That is most unorthodox, it borders upon improper. Men are suited by men. Women by seamstresses._

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance. I am Dowd Montry and I have been tailoring for the proud Lannister household for over forty years.” Her childhood training steeled her not to wince when he bowed and placed a slobbery kiss upon the back of her hand. “May I introduce my wife Luella.”

The middle-aged woman curtsied politely. “It is an honour My Lady.”

The warrior maid summoned her voice, locked somewhere within her throat, discreetly wiping her hand upon the skirt of her dress. “It is lovely to meet you both – I apologise for my tardiness, but I was unaware of this morning’s appointment…”

For some reason this seemed to amuse the pair of them greatly as the couple exchanged a look and tittered.

“Of course!” Dowd boomed enthusiastically “– you were not to know!”

“It was a most unusual request made by Lord Lannister.” Luella attempted to explain. “But my husband has served the lineage for decades and we were most happy to accommodate his requirements.”

“Yes, yes, we have worked tirelessly and now here we are for the grand reveal!”

Brienne furrowed her brow. “I do not understand… am I not required for a fitting?”

“Not at all My Lady.” Luella seemed to think it was necessary to continually bow her head in deference, glancing up at the tall noblewoman for only fleeting instants. “We were supplied with adequate measurements from Septa Donyse.”

The maiden’s mouth gaped wordlessly, trying to piece together this peculiar turn of events.

“Allow me to explain-” Dowd Montry was far more confident than his spouse.

_He worked for Tywin Lannister and lived to tell the tale…_

“Generally, I form the basis of the designs, combining practicality with quality and artistry. My wife leads up the group of seamstresses who work behind the scenes. However I have brought Luella along today as her input was required to fulfill his Lordship’s order… we also hoped that the presence of a woman would place you at ease.”

The new Lady Lannister’s eyes widened in realisation.

_The gowns are already made!_

She hated to imagine, even if it spared her a fitting.

_Here comes lions and finery._

“What styles did Ser Jaime request from you?”

“Right this way Your Ladyship…”

The couple led her to the end of the room where several dummies had been erected, covered by linen sheets. A wide table had been concealed in a similar manner.

“We hope they are to your liking-“ Dowd chatted excitably as Luella crossed over to the mannequins, beginning to unveil their contents. “-Never in all my years have I designed for the female form. I even recommended a fine seamstress I know to Lord Lannister – she specialises in the most exquisite samites and embroidery - but he was very insistent about what you were to have. I had to assemble an entire team, working alongside the cobbler and belt maker in order to meet his specifications.”

Brienne’s breath caught in her throat as her gaze swept over the first ensemble.

Supple suede breeches of a rich tan with matching knee-high boots. A long-sleeved silken undershirt of rose coupled with a leather tunic and cinched in place with a matching swordbelt.

The legs looked long and wide enough to accommodate her trunk-like thighs. The shoulders were broad to make the fit comfortable. No padding or falseness had been added to give her a woman’s shape.

But still it was pretty – feminine. The leather had been embossed with patterns towards the edges and the lighter shade of brown softened the look. The curve of her waist would be emphasised by the belt.

As she stepped slowly around the semi-circle, she was greeted by further wonders.

This time the tunic was sky blue, a rich brown vest fitted over the top of it, laced down the front in criss-cross patterns and accompanied by breeches flatteringly cut from the same leather.

Reaching out a quaking hand, Brienne reverently touched the soft sleeve, never having felt a garment as magnificent or as lovely.

_Such things are not meant for one as beastly as I._

“There are more upon the table My Lady…” Luella’s voice was lowered respectfully. “There is a tabard, jerkin, surcoat and doublet. All have been adapted to compliment a woman, with delicate embellishments here and there. You have an array of swordbelts and boots to tie in with each.”

“They are superb…” The maiden’s voice hitched and she swallowed. “…Thank you for all the effort you have gone to. I could never conceive anything finer.”

“The honour was all ours Lady Lannister and should you find any that need alteration we will see to it with priority.” Dowd bowed low, extending out an envelope. “Before we depart – we were asked to pass this to you.”

She took it from his hand as she bid them goodbye, fingertips tracing the childish lettering which she now knew belonged to her husband.

After the door clicked shut in their wake, she unravelled the parchment.

___________________________________________________________________________

**_Happy Eleventh Day before Yuletide my Sweet Swordswench._ **

**_There are Eleven Ensembles._ **

**_I hope they are more what my Lady of the Rock has in mind._ **

**_I told you – I will never try and shape you into someone you’re not._ **

****

**_Your Jaime_ **

**____________________________________________________________________________ **

****

A large part of her wanted to find him and embrace him; an equal part thought that would be pathetic and foolish. Yet another quadrant was still in shock.

So instead she stood amongst the outfits - the most thoughtful thing another person had ever done for her – and swiped the escaping tear from her cheek.


	4. 10 Days Before Yuletide...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beginning Jaime's POV - Ending Brienne's POV  
> [](https://www.flickr.com/photos/185980079@N02/49211612893/in/dateposted-public/)

The urge to kiss her was overwhelming. Jaime bravely fought the burning desire to take those large plump lips between his own, making her squirm in awkward delight until she melted into his mouth. His blood rushed at the mere thought.

She had strode commandingly into his solar, a pillar of indignance and accusation, clad in exquisite leather that moulded to her lengthy legs and reminded him just how long it was since he had enjoyed a woman.

_Best not to dwell upon it, my wench is not coming across anytime soon. Especially not with that look on her face…_

“Can I help Wife?” He angled his head to the side as innocently as he could.

“Where is Oathkeeper’s polishing cloth?” She folded her arms across her scant chest. “I leave it in the same place every day after practice and it has been moved.”

He placed his flesh and blood hand over the one wrought of gold, feigning bewilderment. “Surely you have just misplaced it. Everyone errs from time to time.”

“No Jaime.” She shook her head vehemently. “When it comes to Oathkeeper I am meticulous – as you well know.”

“Perhaps the staff shifted it whilst cleaning…”

“They know better. They have been instructed not to touch it and the Seven know they will not risk the wrath of a Lannister by disobeying a direct order.”

The lion shrugged, leaning back casually in his seat, stretching his arms and folding his hands, both real and prosthetic, behind his head. “Then this is a conundrum.”

“I know not why you mean to vex me, when I am attempting to remain patient with you.” Brienne scowled at him in such a way it took all his willpower not to crack and begin laughing. “I know the only person who would be impertinent enough to move it is you.”

She inhaled a deep breath, calming her temper. “I do not mind if you borrowed it - though it would have been considerate to ask me first - but at least have the decency to admit that you meddled and tell me where I can find it.”

He sniggered wickedly. “Maybe if you ask me nicely…”

She strode briskly to his desk, looming over him in all her impressive might, body weight leant upon her outstretched arms and freckled hands. Her glower brooked no-nonsense and her tone was the precise opposite to the sweet supplication he had in mind as she growled through grit teeth. “Jaime – where is it!”

Arching one eyebrow he grinned affably. “Have you tried the armoury?”

“Urgh!” Grunting in frustration she turned on her heel and stormed out of the room.

Cat quick, he leapt from his seat in pursuit. Determined not to miss the final act in his staged performance.

######

Bursting through the double doors to the spacious armoury, Brienne looked left and right, scanning the room for the soft cloth she used to tend Oathkeeper’s blade.

Spying it laying upon an extremely large wooden chest, she surged forward and snatched it triumphantly, sending a scrap of parchment fluttering to the floor.

Squatting to retrieve it, she beheld Jaime’s handwriting again.

_________________________________________________________________________________________

**_You know you are quite endearing when you are angry._ **

**_Your ears and neck turn Lannister crimson._ **

**_Mayhaps you are one of us after all?_ **

**_I suggest you look inside the chest… maybe then my misdemeanour will be forgiven._ **

****

**_Happy Tenth Day before Yuletide_ **

****

**_Signed,_ **

**_Your Purposefully Infuriating Husband_ **

**_______________________________________________________________________________________ **

****

Lifting her head, she beheld the mighty latch, clicking it open and unsealing the lid.

She willed herself not to be jumpy, to some extent wary of another poorly made jape awaiting her within. Ready to fly at her when she raised the top.

Keeping her head back, she hefted the lid open, the hinges creaking and resounding off the armoury walls until the metal arms clicked in place, holding it aloft.

The box was lined in sapphire velvet, the soft velour cushioning a resplendent suit of armour.

Tinged blue itself and wrought from a noticeably superior grading of steel it was both lightweight and ornate. Engraved with intricate scrollwork and alternating imagery. Starburst, Crescent Moon and Roaring Lion.

Awe quickly transformed to excitement as she catalogued each piece. Touching and identifying the pieces like an over-zealous child.

_Helmet –_ so different to the ill-fitting piece she had worn when she won the Melee at Bitterbridge.

 _Gorget, Spaulders, Vambraces…_ she paused to feel the ridges of the pattern, pressing the pads of her fingers to the idents so hard the likeness of the image briefly imprinted upon her skin.

 _Gauntlets, Cuirass_ – by far the most densely decorated, Brienne blushed as she noted the subtle curve in the shape to allow for her meagre bosom. She was so used to feeling herself squashed against a male’s flat chestpiece. 

_Cuisses, Greaves, Poleyn and Solleret._ The leg and foot armour rounded out the set.

“Ten elements.” She breathed aloud, standing upright to admire the suit as a whole. “I can scarce believe it.”

“It will become you.”

The maiden startled at Jaime’s voice, pivoting on the spot to see him relaxing against the doorframe.

His smug smirk annoyingly victorious as he asked. “Do you need help trying it on?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gorgeous Cover Art by Ro_Nordmann :)
> 
> #######
> 
> Hi everyone!  
> As this chapter concludes I just wanted to make a note for anyone following this story.  
> Although this is starting off with obvious presents, some of the future chapters/gifts are going to be more abstract as through natural progression their relationship grows closer, prompting them to have more emotional exchanges and address what lies between them.  
> For these first few gifts Jaime had been in the initial stages of wooing, showering her with grandiose gestures.  
> But he also knows full well that Brienne is not a woman who can be 'bought.' So do expect a slight change of pace coming.  
> Stay tuned! :D


	5. 9 Days Before Yuletide...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne's POV
> 
> Cover Art by Ro_Nordmann  
> [](https://www.flickr.com/photos/185980079@N02/49211612893/in/dateposted-public/)  
> 

Brienne smoothed the skirt of her golden gown as she sat at her dresser, fidgeting and frowning in the looking glass as Gloria and her other ladies combed the knots out of her straw textured hair.

She had too little to style but too much to leave it unkempt.

“What would you have us do My Lady?” Cynthie enquired, she was the attendant specifically in charge of helping her dress for social occasions.

_A job she most likely regrets volunteering for…_

Tonight the Grand Ballroom would be opened to noblemen and women from the Westerlands, a traditional soiree being thrown in commemoration of the Festival of Carols.

A two-day long celebration of the music of Yuletide season.

Grimacing at her reflection Brienne, looked down shyly. “Perhaps just pin it back from my face…. I do not wish it to block my eyes.”

_Twice now Jaime has said he likes them. Once when he gave me Oathkeeper and once more in his Twelfth Day letter._

_Mayhaps they can be my one redeeming feature…_

Earlier in the day she had been overtaken by some lunacy, borrowing a horse from the stables and riding headlong into Lannisport. There she sought out Dowd Montry, who was kind enough to direct her to the seamstress he endorsed. Upon arrival she had used her newly acquired title to her advantage, hastily requesting that something be fashioned for that very evening, a dress worthy of the festivities which would be befitting of the Lady of Casterly Rock.

Wholeheartedly she had found herself appreciating Jaime’s efforts, nicks and chips weakening the invisible shields she wore around her emotions. The kindness and acceptance which he extended to her more than her heart could bear to process. The possibility of authenticity behind his assertion of love too ethereal and flimsy to contemplate. 

So instead she had resolved to make him proud if she could. Determined that when presented for the first time as Lady Lannister she would not bring him shame. In the recesses of her frangible maiden’s heart she wanted to be the woman on his arm who would make him shine – but alas her frighteningly ugly features could only inevitably let them both down.

The resulting garment was of course sublime, she had requested it plainly cut, forgoing embellishments in favour of simplicity but the golden samite fabric glimmered more radiantly than the noon sun in summer. Though when she brutally appraised herself in the mirror only disappointment and despair sneered back at her.

_I tried Jaime… you will never know it, because I was always set to fail – but I tried._

She could not tell him. That would be to let the weakness show. Allow it to be known how much her shortcomings hurt and how the snickers stung.

The only thing she could don which would see her safely through the night – was indifference.

#######

“A gown?” Jaime smiled, instinctually offering her his right arm before remembering his disfigurement. She observed the sudden panic, the self-conscious shift in his demeanour, the way he quickly swapped elbows and the side on which he was standing. “Here I was prepared to see you cause a scandal wearing your breeches.”

“I have no desire to makes waves.” She set her jaw to keep the fear from showing. The last ball she attended had ended in a deluge of tears upon her pillow. “Nor to draw unnecessary attention to myself.”

Moving around him, she repositioned herself once again upon his right side.

“I also do not mind this.” She placed an enormous hand upon his brocade sleeve, kindly sliding it down to his forearm. “If you do not have any objections?”

His emerald eyes glittered as he linked his arm with hers, feeling her fingers settle back upon the join between his wrist and golden hand. “None. I thank you My Lady.”

Brienne had always detested her title yet somehow when it flowed from Jaime’s lips in that syrupy tone, it brought more joy than agony.

They traversed the corridors arm in arm, slowly merging with the meandering throngs of guests. A sea of Yuletide colours and sumptuous extravagance.

“Will you humour me enough to let me tell you how extraordinary you look tonight?”

Despite herself Brienne guffawed, drawing a disapproving expression from one of the older courtiers until they recognised her husband and hastily retreated their stare.

“You choose your words deftly Ser Jaime,” she lowered her octave so only he could hear. “I am certainly conspicuous.”

“I meant it as a compliment Wench.” He smiled obliquely at the guests as they picked their way towards the double-sided doors. “The gold goes with your hair and you know how I do so like blondes.”

Rolling her marbles to the high domed ceiling she replied wryly. “You don’t look half bad yourself.”

#######

Regardless of the Winter chill the Grand Ballroom was stifling, roaring fireplaces upon every wall and crowds of people clustering close. Brienne towered above the majority of them, getting a bird’s eye view of the tops of their heads. Inundated by sycophantic well-wishes whose pretty words did little to hide their barely masked agendas. It was enough to make her head swim.

She had stilled the first time she felt Jaime’s hand arrive upon the small of her back. The intimate contact foreign to a maiden but not necessarily unwelcome. She soon learnt the subtleties of his gestures and could predict his next move through the pressure.

Splayed fingers – _Stay. We must engage a little longer._

A push against her spine – _T_ _ime to move._

His thumb rubbing soothing circles through the fabric – _Calm down, it will be over soon._

That was her favourite.

The intuition he displayed in knowing when it became too much and her tolerance began to fray. It was an effective method because as soon as he began, her focus shifted onto the divine sensation until she forgot her irritability. 

“Who must we speak with next Jaime?” She asked, raising a cup of cocoa to her lips.

“It is another task which beckons now.” He drained his mulled wine and grinned. “I suspect you will not welcome it.”

Before she could enquire further thunderous applause erupted from the crowd.

Upon a raised podium deep red curtains withdrew, revealing a nine-piece orchestra and she joined in the clapping with delight.

“But this I like.” She regarded Jaime questioningly as the nonet began to play, the beginning chords of a Yuletide waltz which resonated beautifully throughout the acoustics in the room.

“Yes but…” Taking the cup from her grasp and placing it aside, he seized her hand within his own. “…as the Host and Hostess, it is our duty to lead in the dancing.”

“Jaime I can’t!” The colour began to drain from her face as she dug her heels into the ground in protest. “They will all laugh, I am ungainly…. I will embarrass us both.”

“You won’t.” He shook his head. “I promise.”

“You cannot promise that…” Panic had her in its grips as all gazes in the room sought them out. “Please…. I do not want to shame you.”

Closing her fingers within his, he pressed his lips to the back of her hand, blue veins visible beneath her ivory skin, throbbing with pulse as her heartbeat quickened to a continual thundering.

“You could never…” He whispered. “… I am honoured to have you by my side.” He fixed her with his undeniable eyes. “Dance with me?”

She was vaguely aware that she nodded, allowing him to guide her to the dancefloor in a daze.

The cold gold of his prosthetic hand nestled in the curve of her back and digits laced between her own.

“Breathe.” Jaime murmured as he led, his beard skimming her cheek. “Tune out all the gawkers. When you are in my arms they can disappear from the room.”

With the swell of the music and the melody of his cadence, it was easy to believe.

Brienne surrendered to the flow of him, the agile grace with which he moved, swaying her along with his impetus. When they parted in time with the music, she measured each fall of her feet, determined not to trip upon her skirt. Letting the assurance of returning to his embrace become the incentive behind each step.

Her reward was when he touched his forehead to hers, reducing the world to just their immediate vicinity. “A waltz is intended to be intimate, a moment passing between two people.”

“My Septa never taught me that.” Her lips barely moved, her voice scarcely audible, as though the ripple of her contralto could divert the static which charged the space between them. “She schooled me in only the method, none of the feeling.”

“What about when you have danced before?” There was a blaze in his eyes which she could not interpret, strikingly similar to the twisting root of rivalry you would expect in a duel. “How does this compare?”

Her memories were thrown back to Renly, the compassion and charity he had shown.

But their dance at arm’s length was a strike against flint to this raging firestorm.

“Different.” Brienne mumbled. Slipping her arm around his waist a little firmer. Leaning in when his beard tickled against her face again as they changed positions, relishing the newness of being cheek to cheek.

“Howso?” He probed, insatiably curious, a small part of her wondered why.

But her answer came unbidden, direct from chest to mind and Brienne was gladdened that her taciturn nature knew to hold it within. 

_With Renly I became infatuated through kindness…_

_With you I am in love._

“No particular reason.” She closed her eyes as they rocked. “It is just different…”


	6. 8 Days Before Yuletide...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne's POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Longest chapter so far & also....  
> Major Fluff Ahead! <3
> 
> Cover Art by Ro_Nordmann  
> [](https://www.flickr.com/photos/185980079@N02/49211612893/in/dateposted-public/)

Tonight, she had expected another gathering. An assembly of choirs and carols. But as she followed the scent of pine towards the Great Hall, catching echoed snippets of her husband’s rich voice bouncing off the marble, she realised they were chiefly unaccompanied…

During the light midday snowfall Jaime had convinced her to take a stroll with him into town and the streets had been lined by groups of performers exhibiting their heavenly voices. Septons and Septas choosing their holy hymns of worship, people from the local community uniting under a common banner in favour of peace within the Seven Kingdoms, professional troupes of mummers adding narrative to the songs through their sidewalk pantomimes.

When Lord and Lady Lannister neared, they sang all the more in harmony, keen to impress and have the opportunity to showcase their skills for their lieges. The couple kept a respectful distance, nodding and applauding whilst Jaime tossed coppers into their upturned hats or bowls.

But a warmth filled her to the brim when her husband crouched in front of a gaggle of smallfolk children. Encouraging them with his genial smile and passing them each a silver stag. A practical fortune in the scheme of an average household’s income. They grabbed at the coin animatedly, clutching it between tiny fingers or holding it against their chest, their rag-tag chorale dispersing as they scampered home with their treasure. Jaime straightened and chuckled.

“You like children, don’t you?” Brienne enquired thoughtfully, witnessing a side of the mordacious Lord she never knew.

“I often wanted to play with Myrcella and Tommen.” He endeavoured to tuck his icy hand back into his glove as they resumed walking, struggling with the difficulty of the simplistic act. _I would help him but I don’t wish to make him feel incapable…_

Sighing he gave up, stuffing his hand into the pocket of his coat as he continued talking. “Teach them things, take them under my wing – even as their uncle.” His eyes met the icy ground as he hinted at the ignominy of their true paternity. “Cersei wouldn’t allow it. She said the risk would be too great.”

The maiden stilled in her tracks, noticing a quiet longing within her husband. A desire to hold his flesh and blood, hear them call him Father.

_I could give that to him…_

She pictured herself with an infant in her arms or a babe within her womb. A golden-haired bundle of perfection, closely resembling Jaime, uncorrupted by this maddening world…

But the image soon changed to the preceding act, of the lion Lord’s god-like physique being held above her, beard prickling against her chin as they kissed and he became acquainted with her most private of parts.

_Why would he want that? Septa Roelle always said my husband would take me in darkness with limited interaction. My face is not conducive to a man’s potency…_

Regardless a blush dyed her cheeks, a symptomatic reaction to her risqué daydream.

Jaime noticed her colour and backtracked to her, taking her own gloved hand and slipping it beneath his cloak. “You have turned red with cold. Best head indoors before I have a beet for a wife.” 

The heels of her boots clicked across the marble floors as she entered the Great Hall, the dais set with an elongated table, two high back chairs and an assortment of platters. Her husband’s note had advised her to dress for comfort instead of style, so she had gladly clothed herself in one of her new ensembles. A deep green, billowy blouse whose long sleeves gathered at the wrist, dark chocolate suede breeches and vest, the front clasping with embellishing loops over golden studs.

It was intriguing how her mindset had evolved over time. Once green had reminded her of Renly, how he favoured the colour for his armour. Now the only thing she associated with the verdant shade was a pair of cat-like eyes, set into the handsome face of an aureate lion Lord.

An unfamiliar male hastily bowed and departed as she approached the raised platform and Brienne heard the distinctive twang of an instrument’s strings, emanate from his direction. She turned her head to follow in curiosity when her husband called her attention away. 

“There you are.” Jaime’s smile was cheery, leaning against the table as though he didn’t have a care in the world. His white silken shirt almost indecently transparent in the light.

 _It is a good thing the hearths are ignited; he would catch a cold if the staff did not maintain the Rock at the temperature of a furnace._

“I am sorry if I am late.”

“Not at all.” He jumped down with all his knightly athleticism, winking as he bowed in greeting. “I serve at My Lady’s pleasure.”

An unknown undulation in his timbre, centred upon the word ‘pleasure’ made her blood heat beneath her skin.

_Surely I am hearing things which are not there…_

“Come Wench.” He ushered her towards their seats. “Tonight, the entertainment is for our enjoyment alone.”

“Will no other guests be joining us?” She queried, amazed at the effort and artistry woven into the scene for solely their benefit. 

The scent of pine was soothing, centrepieces wrought from the evergreen boughs of firs, bedecked with the little brown cones from which the aroma permeated. A similar motif stretched the length of the mantelpieces, adding a cosy yet dignified ambience to the vast space.

“I’m afraid you will be suffering through with only my company this evening.” He pulled out her chair with a flourish. “Sorry to disappoint.” 

“I am not disenchanted.” She lowered herself into the cushion, her lips quirking teasingly. “Yet.”

“Ahhhhh.” He took his spot beside her. “Pending my folly is it?”

“Well you do have a track record of rubbing me up the wrong way.”

“My Lady…” Jaime brought his hand to his chest in mockery of being aghast. “I dare say you have not yet permitted me the privilege of rubbing you – but let me assure it would most definitely NOT be in the wrong way.”

She made a low grunt in the back of her throat as she inspected the contents of her goblet. “And here I was under the false assumption you had sworn to act the gentleman.”

“I made no such pledges for my mouth as you’ll recall.”

“Well bravo, it has been less than one minute and already I am peevish.”

“Surely that is some kind of personal best on my part.” He raised his own cup. “Shall we toast to the achievement?”

Brienne knew she should be scowling or annoyed but there was an irresistibility to the way he baited her, a freedom in knowing she could respond as she liked and there would be no ramifications. For this was simply how they communicated, quintessentially them. So instead she beamed ever so slightly, clinking her chalice against his own.

“We ought to be saluting the Festival of Carols.” She remarked, never forgetting the true meaning of the day. “Is there to be a singer?” She pursed her lips as she sipped, the mulled red far stronger than her palate was accustomed to. 

“Indeed.” Jaime signalled a staffer. “Bring My Lady a Blackberry Wine; it is far sweeter and better suited to her.”

Attachment fluttered through her stomach, as gentle and tender as a butterfly’s wings.

_He is taking care of me… no man other than my Father has ever cared enough to cater to my needs._

_I did not even have to speak, he watched my face, interpreted my expression…_

She was hurtled back to the present with the clink of her new beverage arriving at table. Seizing it in appreciation she tasted its contents, a part of her planning to tell him it was an improvement even if it was not. Fortunately, there was no need for such subterfuge.

“Better?” He enquired.

“Much.” The cloying flavours danced over her tongue. “Thank you.”

Reaching across he took hold of her stem between two fingers. “May I?”

“Please.”

She found herself fascinated by his lips as he savoured her wine.

“Not bad. Though surely there will be a blend that is more balanced and not as sickly. I will select you something from the cellar before Yuletide Day.”

Setting it down and angling closer to her, Brienne watched him flex his fingers as though suppressing an impulse, his timbre becoming lower as he added. “Perhaps there will come an evening where I can sample what you taste without sipping from your cup…” He raked his teeth over his bottom lip. “But know you never have to thank me. Not for tending to you. It is a husband’s calling.”

“You do it well.” Her voice was throaty, sounding almost foreign.

Both retreated into a contemplative silence. Rocked by the simmering undertones of their exchange.

Brienne helped herself to another mouthful of the deep purple liquid, lingering her lips softly upon the place Jaime’s had landed.

_Almost as if a kiss…_

The lion coughed deliberately, returning his tones to neutrality. “Where were we?”

Hastily swallowing she tried not to spit as she answered. “You were telling me if we shall hear musicians tonight…”

“Oh yes, we will. For the leisure – or torment depending upon their quality – of our ears I have arranged Eight soloists to perform for us.”

“Eight?” She grinned. “May I presume that is in aid of the days until Yuletide?”

“You may, shall I summon the first?”

“Please do – I enjoy hearing vocalists and the Carols can be especially pretty.”

Jaime cocked his head to the side. “This I did not know.” He seemed chuffed. “Well in that case, I will have them commence…”

#####

As the tune from the seventh musician’s fiddle began to wind down, Brienne regretted the predicament it caused. During the many recitals they had heard, her hand had crept slowly closer to Jaime’s laying atop the table. First connecting with a brush of her thumb, then edging each digit subsequently closer. Now her hand rested fully within his, fondly cradled in the bed of palm and finger. Forging an indescribable connection as they floated upon ripples of song.

The requirement to applaud would sever that joining.

Nevertheless; duty prevailed as she reluctantly reclaimed her hand, clapping enthusiastically for the flawless performance.

_Only one more…_

The thought was almost sad, she was actually having fun.

As the male entered, she stole at glance at Jaime, her husband offering an unassuming smile as he extended his outstretched palm, providing the opportunity for her to retake it.

Shyly she slipped her own digits back into his grasp, quietly glowing. Relishing the tingle which the skin to skin contact caused.

Giving her attention to the singer, Brienne placed his attire as the man who had been speaking with her husband earlier. She recognised the colours of his flamboyant costume as he fine-tuned his lute.

“What will you be playing for us this evening?” Jaime enquired.

The songster bowed low, extending out his arm in the naturally dramatic manner common amongst entertainers.

“My Lord, My Lady, without further ado I will be performing for you ‘A Yuletide Serenade.’”

He stepped back, raising his instrument and producing a sonorous romantic melody, before adding to it the dulcet tenor of his voice…

“ _Decorations, fill the halls,_

_All are meant for show -_

_Chandeliers and candlelight,_

_Glint against the snow -_

_But all pales, when compared against,_

_The love I’ve come to know…._

_Wealth is not found, in shallow displays,_

_Worth comes not from title or place -_

_But from the ideals, we strive to live by,_

_The inner beauty we embrace -_

_And all the light I find, in this cold world,_

_Emits solely from your face…._

_And I know I often don’t know what to say,_

_I know I play the fool -_

_But you’re the only one I want,_

_Beside me, this Yule._

_I know we clashed, when we first met,_

_It was not love at first sight -_

_Viewpoints in constant, opposition,_

_We only spoke to fight -_

_I hang my head and now admit,_

_My beloved you were right…._

_To you alone, I concede defeat,_

_To you alone I yield -_

_We transitioned smoothly, in our rhythm,_

_Went from enemy to shield -_

_And all that passion, can be transferred,_

_To our bed instead of a battlefield…._

_And I know that we inflame each other,_

_I know we like to duel -_

_But you’re the only one I want,_

_To fight with me, this Yule…_

_I know you hate, your looking glass,_

_You only see your scars -_

_Insecurity, forms your prison cell,_

_And self-doubt becomes the bars -_

_But the rare gift, of your smile,_

_It can outshine the midnight stars…_

_This shallow world, is unfair my love,_

_You sow not what you reap -_

_I have learnt, my lessons hard,_

_That beauty only runs skin deep -_

_And asking you, to place your faith in me,_

_It will take a daring leap…_

_And I know my phrasing comes out wrong,_

_I know I have been cruel -_

_But you’re the only one I want,_

_To look upon, this Yule…_

_I have shed, all my defences,_

_You see through my disguise -_

_With you, there is only truth -_

_Between us there are no lies,_

_And I only like, the side of me,_

_Reflected in your eyes…_

_One day may I, be worthy,_

_You make me a better man -_

_I know I ask, a lot of you,_

_To take me as I am -_

_But Yuletide is, a time for miracles,_

_So this song was my plan…_

_And I know you’re far too good for me,_

_You’re regard a priceless jewel,_

_But you’re the only one I want,_

_To gift my heart to, this Yule…”_

Her palm had begun sweating at the lyrics, the compulsion to run and shut herself away the habitual instinct she had to quash. For another stronger urge wanted to listen to each line, absorb the sentiment of each verse.

_Eight._ She had counted. _There were eight stanzas. That is not coincidence. And the words…_

Jaime extricated his hand and began clapping.

The musician bobbed up and down, taking his adulation from the mighty lion Lord.

All whilst she sat dumbstruck, still hearing the notes and chorus, running on a neverending loop through her mind and chest.

Finally acknowledging she was being rude, she plastered on a smile. “That was quite an astounding concert – I am afraid words evade me as I am still taking it all in.”

“Understandably…” Jaime smirked. “…thank you once again for sharing your talents with us this evening.”

“It was a prestigious opportunity My Lord. The pleasure was entirely mine.”

He withdrew from the hall, leaving them quite alone.

By contrast to the earlier vibrations of sound, the room seemed especially quiet.

The discordance of rattled thoughts and raw emotions within her becoming all the more voluminous.

“I am tired.” Brienne declared, fatigued by the mayhem of her growing affinity with her spouse. Preconditioning for discomfiture rallying against the ignited hope. “Will you walk me to my chambers?”

“Certainly Wench.”

They alighted from their seats, beginning the winding amble through the Rock, for once undisturbed by staffers, the majority asleep or attending festivities of their own.

“I have not heard that carol before.” She clasped her hands together to keep from fidgeting.

“No?”

“My Father often had singers at Evenfall, why I can scarcely think of an instance where there was not one in attendance. But never in all the years has that song been played…”

The maiden crossed in front of Jaime, blocking off his path. “Tell me truthfully of its origin… was that a rendition or an original composition?”

Her husband inhaled a deep breath. “A special request upon its debut – written for the occasion.” With a smirk he added. “I think he did a fair job given the complexity of the subject. I suggested that ‘stubborn mule’ may be a good rhyme but for some strange reason he didn’t think it had a place in a love ballad.” 

Vaguely amused and satisfied with his honesty she resumed walking, calling to mind the many personal inferences to their journey and insightful observations woven amongst the lyrics.

_It was Jaime… the man may have known how to string it into song but the sentiments were entirely Jaime…_

She wrinkled her nose at him as a particular turn of phrase stuck in her head. “Passion in bed?”

The lion chuckled, shaking his head from side to side. “All those lines and that’s the one you decide to harp upon?”

The pointed look she gave him could freeze ice, only making his glee more vocal.

“Well it’s true and I stand by it. I believe we would be sizzling in bed.” He ignored her stunned expression and continued talking. “We are both physical, with great stamina and enjoy a bit of rough play but at the same time I strongly suspect we are both romantics at heart.” He shrugged unapologetically. “We have all the makings of quite the sexual chemistry.”

Recollections of their swordfight in the woods played vividly in her subconscious. The rush of crossing blades with Jaime, the exhilaration as they duelled, the strain and exertion sending adrenaline surging to every inch of her large body.

_I wonder if it’s really like that..?_

Worrying her bottom lip, she examined the pattern on the carpet and mumbled. “I know not of it.”

“You’re not supposed to…” There was a carnal inflection to Jaime’s voice. “It’s for me to guide you.”

His last comment still hovered in the air when they arrived outside her chambers. Brienne leant against the wall, pinning her squirming hands behind her back as Jaime observed her with an unasked question, opting instead to engage her in small talk. 

“You know I must say I am impressed with the innovations that they dreamed up for your outfits.” He came closer, gesturing to the loop and stud system binding her vest. “Quite inventive… far superior to laces. I struggle through one handed every time I need to piss…” His pointed finger moved up and down, tantalisingly close to her bodice. “But I think I could manage these.”

Summoning her courage, she inclined her head towards the fastenings. “See if you can.”

Her chest heaved as he inched nearer, standing but a hair’s breadth away as he snagged his index finger in the first loop, lifting it over the little gold dome. Dragging it down to the second and then third as her skin erupted in gooseflesh and she parted her lips to snatch oxygen.

As the last catch was released from her waist, he gently parted the leather, eyes sweeping over the thin green silk beneath, coming to rest upon her breast. The pert buds peaking and outlined beneath the gauzy fabric. Ever so slowly, he brushed the back of his hand over her protruding nipple, the resulting charge making her inhale sharply, her entire being tensing at the new variety of contact. 

Immediately he suspended his attentions, cautioned by the intensity of her reaction, his emeralds searching her sapphires for consent to proceed.

_He swore to me his tolerance, the decision of when is mine alone._

Swallowing roughly, she located her voice. Raw from desire and uncertainty.

“Goodnight Ser Jaime.”

Respectfully he nodded, rocking back on his heel and retreating a couple of paces.

_Will he be angry with me?_

But his gaze was so adoring, it chased away her concerns. More golden than the sun breaking over the horizon, scattering away the darkness.

“Goodnight My Wife.”


	7. 7 Days Before Yuletide...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne's POV
> 
> Cover Art by Ro_Nordmann  
> [](https://www.flickr.com/photos/185980079@N02/49211612893/in/dateposted-public/)

Marking a sennight before Yuletide, the Seventh Day was reserved for remembrance. A sombre, reflective mood dictating the day as people spoke in hushed tones, turning their thoughts to loved ones who could no longer be with them to join in the celebrations.

Brienne had been especially withdrawn throughout the day and she wished she could consider herself a selfless enough person to attribute it solely to the solemn theme.

Assuredly memories of relatives lost or sadly never known drifted to the forefront of her mind but her reflections were constantly interrupted by other streams of conscious.

Beset upon by the ghost of a caress against her breast, eyes rivalling the forest evergreen averring his devotion and the lyrics of a compelling song running on a continual loop, invading her dreams and depriving her of restful sleep.

Hiking the skirts of her demure shift dress she ascended the last few stairs to the Sept, releasing the fabric and smoothing it carefully when she reached the top. Upon this night the sacred shine called for modesty and simplicity, women expected to set aside their finery and don plain gowns in respect for those passed.

Entering, Brienne silently accepted the small basket of white candles offered by a Septa, sweeping her gaze across the Seven Statues which ringed the perimeter before making her way through the thinning throngs to the altar of the Crone. Here they would give tribute with the white tapers, shining a light for the souls they missed and bidding them a Happy Yuletide in the blessed afterlife.

The maid found herself pleased when she spotted her husband already kneeling at the shrine, bathed in the flickering lights of dozens of candles, in various stages of burning down.

She dropped to her knees reverently beside him and he graced her with a faint smile before returning to melting the wax at the bottom of his taper, using the liquid it to fix the tall white pillar in place upon the marble.

“Hoping to avoid the crowds as well?” He whispered.

“You know I am not social.” She kept her voice hushed. “I prefer solitude for my ruminating.”

“Do you want me to go?”

“No-“ Her heart spoke without pausing. “-we are one soul, remember? It is only fitting we share each other’s sorrows.”

She gestured with an ivory finger towards the row of candles he had already erected.

“May I enquire?” Brienne was genuinely curious, wanting insight into the man many dismissed as a heartless killer. She knew better - there were many threads and intricacies which formed the tapestry of his tender spirit. “Will you let me take some of the burden from your shoulders?”

“Gladly.” He shifted a little to the right, allowing her to come closer, ensuring their conversation didn’t intrude upon the brooding of others. Their bent knees pressed side by side. “Shall we take it in turns My Lady?”

“As you wish.”

Pointing to the first candle he explained. “My Mother – she died birthing Tyrion. Fortunately, I was old enough that I can still remember her, she appears to me in my dreams on occasion. In some ways it is comforting but in other ways, it makes it ache all the more.”

Brienne lit her own candle, the movements of her right hand quicker and more fluid than Jaime’s left as she set it down. “My Mother. She died birthing…” Hastily she lit two more candles. “…my twin sisters, Arianne and Alysanne. They did not survive infancy.” 

Jaime's orbs widened in surprise and sympathy. “Sweetling… I am so sorry. I did not know…” Bowing his head, he murmured. “We have more in common that we realised.”

“Indeed.” But beneath her ribs another flame burned just that little bit brighter.

_He has not called me Sweetling since the woods…but then it was a taunt._

_Now it sounds – like a term of endearment._

“Your turn.” She encouraged. “Tell me two more.”

“My Father. I erected his candle beside my Mother’s because for all his faults, I know he truly did love her. It gives me something to cling to. To know that he was capable of such emotion, beneath the layers of tyranny.” He worked his jaw, refusing to look at her. “I blame myself in many ways for his death. I did not know what Tyrion would do. I saved my brother, only to doom my father. It seems every act I take in the name of good, comes at a cost somehow. I know he was ruthless and that there are few who despair his passing but still he was my sire.”  
Brienne placed a steadying hand upon his back, feeling the muscles quiver beneath his linen shirt and wanting to soothe him. “We quarrelled before he died. He wanted me to leave the Kingsguard but I didn’t want to break another oath. It is ironic that now I have done as he asked… taking a wife and my place at the Rock. Perhaps he may have been proud.”

“I think he has much to be proud of.” Rubbing his spine, she was taken aback how natural it felt to touch Jaime in a familiar manner, his warmth emanating into her palm.

Composing himself, he moved on, looking to the next candle.

“Joffrey.” Shaking his head, he sighed. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to feel. As I told you once, he was never mine… not really. And the boy was… I will be diplomatic and say troubled. Try as I may I could never bring myself to grieve the way his Mother did. But he was of my flesh… I can only hope he found some peace in the next world which he never did in this one.”

“That is fair.” She kept her hand upon him as she lit her final candle, the sadness of this loss affecting her still. “Galladon. My elder brother. He drowned when I was four. He was only eight and even through the sketchy haze of my childhood memories I know I loved him.” She stared at him with her earnest sapphires. “You did the right thing – trying to save your brother. What came after Jaime… it isn’t your fault. I would have tried to aid Galladon if I could.”

When he swept her into an embrace, the air rushed from her lungs.

In the next intake of breath her nostrils filled with the scent of Jaime, temporarily forgetting where she was and all her misgivings as she nuzzled into his blonde curls.

_I could stay like this forever…_

After a moment or an eternity – it was hard to determine which, in Jaime’s embrace time itself suspended – he released her.

Raising his last candle and watching it burst into searing amber as the wick ignited.

“My Uncle Kevan.” He set it next to the others. “I found out about his murder upon arriving in King’s Landing. It came as a shock but… the only thing I cared about was you.”

“I’m glad you did.” Without thinking she leant her forehead to his shoulder. “I appreciate all you arranged for me. I’m sorry, I should have told you sooner.”

“We have been saving one another for our entire acquaintance. If I were to tally up the things I have to thank you for, I would lose count. They would be immeasurable.” He placed his hand upon the back of her blonde hair, tilting her face up to meet his eyes. “I think the only reason we are not amongst those candles, is because we can rely upon each other.”

“Well said.” And there it was again, the tidal surge of love. The hormonal, chemical reaction fusing her attachment to him.

And her compulsion to fight it was waning…

#####

“Ser Jaime…” Brienne's voice was meek as she formed the sentence in her mind. They hadn’t long arrived home but the hour was late.

_When did I begin calling Casterly Rock home?_

“… would it be unreasonable to ask you to sleep by my side?” Bashfulness overcame her but she soldiered through it. “Mayhaps if we are together, the phantoms will be dissuaded. Giving us both peace to slumber.”

The lion grinned broadly, a welcome respite from the sober theme of the evening. “Are you asking me to share a bed with you wife?”

“In some respects…yes.” She heedfully picked over her words as they came out her mouth. “It is not at all unseemly for us to sleep together, we are wed - but that is just what I intend. Sleep. Do you grasp my meaning?”

“Clear as crystal Wench.”

“And your reply?” She was intrepid but nervous, craving the nearness of his body but still too daunted by the prospect of congress.

_Is it wrong? Should I be sating him?_

_But I so just want him to hold me…_

He playfully brought his nose to hers, squinting in mock of a warning. “You better not commandeer all the covers.”


	8. 6 Days Before Yuletide...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime's POV
> 
> Cover Art by Ro_Nordmann  
> [](https://www.flickr.com/photos/185980079@N02/49211612893/in/dateposted-public/)

Sweat glistened upon his brow, irrespective of the freezing temperature. The thermals and woollens beneath his outfit becoming soaked by perspiration, the added layers which shuttered out the icy temperature adding to his heat.

He licked the salt from his top lip and bent his knees, tapping the Valyrian blade against his shin to indicate he was ready.

“Are you sure you don’t require respite?” Brienne was provoking him in every way, though she was so guileless she didn’t even realise it. The leathers she wore beautifully hugged every contour of her fit body, the curve of her hip outlined in contrast to her thick waist, like a rolling hillside he would very much like to roam. The knit of her sleeves moulded around every toned muscle in her arms, rising and falling with the landscape of her physique. She popped in living colour against the backdrop of white snow, a war goddess made flesh as she raked her impossibly long fingers through her short hair, keeping it off her highbrow.

_How did I ever think her unattractive?_

_She is otherworldly, a deity of design. Incorporating the best aspects of the Maiden and the Warrior._

_Even the Gods must tremble at the sight of her or wring their hands in jealousy._

“Positive Wench.” He blew his own damp curl away from his mouth. “Six Rounds of Sparring is what I promised – and a Lannister always delivers.”

She stabbed the tip of Oathkeeper into the snow, propping her hand against its lion pommel with a regal bearing, a small line appearing between her brows. “Isn’t it something about paying your debts?”

“That too.” His mouth quirked up on one side. “Though you haven’t yet asked to Hear Me Roar.”

“One could consider that a good thing Ser, I have not incited you to rage.”

“Do not instantly assume that a roar has to be a bad thing. Why there are many activities I could suggest where I daresay even my newly made lioness could unleash her primal ferocity.”

Brienne rolled her gigantic marbles. “Did you come here to duel with me Kingslayer or talk me into yielding with your grandiose claims?”

_Bold._

_When she calls me Kingslayer I know she is itching for a match._

Raising Widow’s Wail - or rather Oathkeeper’s Counterpart (as he’d come to nickname it in the interim) - he announced the beginning of their last bout.

“Round Six of Six for Renaming Rights – defeat me once more My Lady and you will have won yourself the honour.” He tossed his mane cockily. “Though I am not an old done man yet, I can assure you the feat sounds easier than it actually is.”

“We shall see about that.” Brandishing her own steel they both charged, the din of clashing blades once more resonating throughout the yard.

#######

Jaime groaned as he pulled off his boots, wriggling his foot from their tight confines with only a stump to aid him.

_Why is everything with one hand so fucking hard?_

“You sound tired.” Her rich tones did things to his system, especially when she was caring. It made him want to throw his head back, eyes shut tight, listening to her polarising accentuations – the perfect balance of sultry and naïve.

“I swear I am not.” He countered, peeling off his jerkin. “Last night I delighted in the most sumptuous slumber you could imagine. My blanket was particularly soft and wench shaped - though I kept trying to drape her across me and the stubborn thing resisted.”

There it was - the pinking of her cheeks which shouted ‘maiden.’

The way she could go from an imposing swordswoman to sheepish girl in the blink of an eye.

“I prevailed eventually however.” Jaime winked. “It felt as though I’d died and gone to a higher plane.”

He had spoken truthfully, his night between her sheets had been paradise. Her long warm form, clad temptingly in nightclothes within his reach for hours.

Brazenly he had sought contact, like a moth drawn to a lantern. Snaking his foot across her ankle, repeating whenever she shuffled away. Flinging an arm over her stomach, so that she tossed it back at him. Nudging and rolling, until she had found herself teetering upon the edge of the mattress.

“My Lady has no more ground to give…” He had chuckled into her ear. “…why does my wife grant me embraces whilst in the sight of Gods, but within our marital bed she will not deign to snuggle?”

“How do I know that is all you want?” Her timidity was muffled by her pillow but still plain. “From such a vantage it would be simple should you wish to claim your rights. I slept in my armour for years to prevent such. When I drift off, I am unguarded.”

“But this is me…” He had propped himself up on an elbow and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “… we have trust remember? And a pledge. Brienne you are the only person alive who still places value in my word. To keep yourself at a distance proves you think me false. If that is the case why invite me here? If you suspect me capable of improper conduct I may as well go.”

She rolled onto her back, her big eyes still blue even in the faint light from their dwindling fire. “Don’t leave. I do have faith in you. Moreso than any man I have ever known.” She gulped endearingly and he outlined the shell of her ear with his index finger. “In honesty I asked you in here as I yen to be held.”

“Then why are you preventing that very thing?”

“I suppose … I did not want to be a tease…” His wife’s inhibitions were palpable, her expression dropping forlornly as she mumbled. “It was stupid… as if ever I could be.”

“Can I speak frankly?”

“You usually do.” She sighed and he watched her steel herself for insults, erecting invisible palisades before his very eyes.

_This will come as a surprise to her…_

“We make fantastic companions Brienne. As comrades and soldiers at arms, I enjoy every minute we spend together.” He navigated carefully, oscillating between what he knew would startle her and what he knew she needed to hear. “But I need you to know that I also want you as a man wants a woman. We are not friends. Not in my opinion anyway. I long to have you as my lover in addition to our rapport.”

In order to make her feel secure he raised the blankets higher, tucking them around her shoulders and chin so she didn’t feel vulnerable hearing his candour.

“This is not intended to be pressure. I will wait. I want you to come to me when you feel the same way I do, when your hunger is equivalent to mine. But I need you to know that I desire you, because I know you may convince yourself otherwise. That the little flirtatious comments I say now and then are not in jest but a way for me to vent the incredible amount of tension you cause within me.” He beamed at her then, lightening the mood. “So have a heart wench. Give me an inch at least. Come and hold your husband, give him the satisfaction of your touch and share in the heat of the fire you cause in my veins.”

Then she had wordlessly wrapped herself around him and Jaime had discovered a new variety of closeness. For to nestle with Brienne was not a man sheltering a spindly sapling within his branches, but two oaks combining, twining their boughs and roots, trunks pressed together, enhancing each other and bolstering their might. Until he was uncertain if he was holding her or she was supporting him.

When morning sun and winter birdsong woke him from his serene slumber, he felt more invigorated than he had in years. Energised even more when he beheld the tranquil profile of her face, the upturned arc of her lips beaming to greet him across her pillow.

That was when suggesting they meet for a contest in the practise yard had seemed a good idea.

Stretching he felt a twinge in the muscles of his shoulder and an ache in his abdomen. Lifting the soft fabric to see the burgeoning bruise he had earnt when Oathkeeper’s flat bit into his leather.

S _he does so like to give me a beating…_

Without a second thought he ripped his sweat-soaked shirt off over his head. Twisting to inspect the damage when he heard Brienne’s shocked gasp.

“Apologies My Lady.” It had been completely accidental but in truth he did not feel remotely displeased with the development. “I was so busy thinking about last night that I forgot you were in the room.”

He stood grinning at her, clad only in his leather breeches, bare of chest with a thin coating of perspiration shining upon his muscles. Buzzing with the fact that he caught her staring, her eyes agog as she turned them hastily to the floorboards. 

“You have held me in less my wife.” Her modesty was his toy, tossing around his newfound power like a child playing catch as he sauntered towards her. “Bathed me as well if I recall.”

“You were fevered, it was necessary. You were half-starved not… not standing before me like that.”

Picking up her hand, he brought it to the purple mark expanding upon his side.

“Did I do that?” She seemed dismayed by her own actions, her implausibly gentle fingers grazing across his discoloured skin.

“Yes my Sweetling. You’ve marked me as yours. I will wear it with pride.” He may have made her feel guilty but the ploy had worked, she was now looking at him, taking in his exposed flesh with starving eyes.

_I am not the only one in this relationship who lusts…_

He was silently triumphant as he wiped his skin clean with a soft, damp rag. Adoring the way her gaze followed every brush of the material.

“Oh wife. I almost forgot. What were you planning on renaming my sword?”

“Hmmm… pardon?” Brienne was not on this earth. Blinking rapidly as she tore her stare from his body, finding his face again.

“My sword?” He flashed his pearly whites. “The one which matches Oathkeeper – not the other. Though you can name that too if you wish. Once you become acquainted.”

She flushed deeper scarlet, the noise she emitted telling of where her mind had wandered.

He watched her discreetly pinch the skin on the back of her hand, twisting it between two fingers to snap her back to coherence.

“Valiant Vow.” She announced. “I think that goes well with Oathkeeper.”


	9. 5 Days Before Yuletide...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne's POV
> 
> Cover Art by Ro_Nordmann  
> [](https://www.flickr.com/photos/185980079@N02/49211612893/in/dateposted-public/)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a marathon chapter and a mini rollercoaster ride all rolled into one.  
> Prepare for Romance, Drama, Angst and Fluff  
> As their relationship intensifies there are some topics which they need to address and conversations which have to be had.  
> Fear not however! The theme of the fic is fluff. All are just stepping stones to get them where they need to be. :)

Brienne stifled a laugh upon awakening. Opening her eyes to the low rumble of Jaime's breathing. A noise of relaxed dreamless sleep where each inhale made him sound like a mammal in hibernation. 

_Mayhaps he is._

She covered her mouth with her hand as he emitted another grumble.   
In his sleep his hair had fallen partially over his face, untamed locks cascading haphazardously over one eye as if it had a lifeforce all of its own. It reminded her of when she was a child upon the beaches of Tarth, watching with horrified fascination as an adolescent boy who had been spear fishing ran from the water with a jellyfish plastered to his face. But unlike the shouting and flailing of the hapless youth, Jaime was relaxed, completely at ease within his own skin and her company.

Somewhere along the way her shoulder had become his pillow. Her knees a fantastic place to rest his leg, as his stumped arm hung limply over her belly. His plump lips were parted, allowing the primitive sounds to escape into the chamber, the exhales rhythmically toying with the lace trim on her nightgown. 

Much to her rankling, she had discovered that another one of the many alleged ‘perks’ of being the Lady of the Rock was her new bedroom attire. Gone were the days where she could enjoy going to bed wearing her undershirt and smallclothes. Liberated by the rare freedom of feeling comfortable in the oversized mannish top.

Now every night her ladies laid out another frilly catastrophe for her after her bath. Pale, A-line and dropping all the way to her ankles (which only came about after they realised how greatly they misjudged her height and let out the hems). Coincidently the considerable length became their one redeeming benefit, preserving her modesty when she tossed and kicked about or the material bunched up on her never-ending legs. Very important now that she found herself sharing a marital bed. 

Last night Jaime had simply taken for granted he was welcome back beside her and refusal had seemed an abhorrent concept when both of them had so enjoyed being ensconced in a tangle of limbs. 

_But that was before the bear from Harrenhal took up residence within my husband's throat..._

The quick rap on the door was so familiar and yet she seized up in panic.

_My ladies! I forgot! They will see us abed._

Yesterday morning her attendants had not been on duty, only resuming their posts around noon. Brienne had given them the previous evening off to complete their own pilgrimages to the Sept.

The smoothness of the first morning with a man in her furs had caused complacency and the routine practices of life as Lady Lannister had completely slipped her mind. 

She wanted to call out to deter them from entering, but to do so would definitely wake Jaime.

_I don’t want to disturb him, I want to remain in this limbo, watching him sleep…_

Her hesitancy cost her dearly, as Gloria breezed in but a moment later, tray in hand without a care in the world. “Good morning My Lady, Happy Five Days before Yuleti…”

She trailed off when she spied Jaime nestled into Brienne’s shoulder. Eyes popping out of her head and mouth dropping open in shock. “Apologies Lady Brienne I did not know you were with his Lordship.” 

_Seven Hells…_

She knew it was all above board. He was her husband and it was expected that she make herself available to him. But the compromising nature of his being strewn possessively across her, snoring softly like he had been thoroughly worn out, made her wish the mattress would swallow her whole.

_Too late the damage is done – and we didn’t even do what they think we did._

Raising a single finger to her lips Brienne indicated for quiet, waving her hand towards the exit to shoo her away. Knowing her other attendants were hovering just out of sight, awaiting Gloria’s permission to enter. 

“Yes, My Lady.” The serving maid positively glowed as she curtseyed, whispering. “Sorry, My Lady.”

Dashing out, the door did not close quickly enough for the maiden to miss the outbreak of giggles in the hall.

Flopping her head back upon the pillow she huffed. _They will be chattering about this for the rest of the day…._

Generally she would be mortified, she knew her default reaction to situations like this was embarrassment - but instead as the initial awkwardness passed, mirth blossomed in her chest.

_They think I spent my night making love…_

A grin engulfed her face as she turned to look at Jaime, taking advantage of his torpid state to stare at him with abandon. Weighing their relationship and the magnetic pull of her immense attraction to the golden lion.

The way it had intensified over the course of the last week and how she now had to rein in her many libidinous impulses. It was a disconcerting but delicious metamorphosis.

Brienne had always been attune to her chest, knowing when its beat was thrown off tune, skipping notes and stealing oxygen as she affixed her love to an unwitting recipient. Jaime the subject of her enamour long before even her cognisance caught up. But this was something else entirely. A beast of a different species, curling from dormancy with intent. First it sent out feelers, tendrils spreading from her unexplored nether, taking hold in her belly, before reaching all the way to her heart. Then the blood began to pump through these opened channels, connecting her body to this isolated region. Flowing with passionate lava to her quiescent womanhood, the revivified organs responding to their decade of famine in the only plausible way – insatiable, rabid starvation.

She had almost fainted when Jaime had named his own urges ‘hunger.’ As though somehow her carmine cheeks could be read as a novella. The Maid had questioned how he knew what plagued her day and now night – the previously restful hours when she sought reprieve alone had become the prime hunting time for her animalistic compulsions.

More and more she wanted to advance their relationship, behave as a conventional wife should. In theory it would be so easy but in practice for her damaged psyche it was incredibly hard. Her walls were stories high, built brick by brick of damage and injurious mockery. Incapacitating her ability to put want into seduction.

Frowning she looked down at her flat chest – she had been inherently impressed and equally shocked when Jaime had so easily zeroed in upon her teat a few nights ago. Eliciting transcendent tingling sensations which burst through her fibres at the simplest of touches. She wanted it again – she wanted him. But the labyrinth of stone which surrounded her seemed too insurmountable to navigate. Each turn in the right direction winding up in another dead end.

She sighed. _Even my nightgown is a problem – how is one supposed to entice a husband in such an unsightly thing?_

She thought of the body it covered, a disproportionate gallery of scars and bruises.

_It can only help my cause – I am best covered…all cats look the same in the dark._

But then she recalled his assertions of the previous evening and a slight thrill coursed through her. 

_Do I dare allow myself to believe it?_

_That Jaime Lannister - inarguably the comeliest man in Westeros - would have his fires stoked by my hulking frame?_

  
Though he himself had managed to strike sparks upon her kindling. 

  
The vibrant memory of his nude torso was still imprinted behind her eyelids. 

The chiselled faultlessness of his chest enough to make her mouth water. An oil painting personified, depicting ideal manhood. The kind which hung in lavish hallways, making the women swoon and fanaticise whilst the men shook their heads and proclaimed such portrayals of masculinity were unrealistic.   
Her husband was the man that maidens pictured when buried beneath their covers, suffering the grunts of their talentless husbands atop them. 

_And here I lie denying him...._

_  
_  
She turned towards her glorious sleeping lion, tweaking his nose between two fingers. Laughter spilling from her lips as he twitched it in annoyance, making her repeat the action just to watch him squirm. Awnings of blonde lashes lifted, revealing murky green pools, humour enlivening their verdant depths.

“You’re a pestiferous Wench aren’t you?”

Grinning broadly, she temporarily forgot her hang-ups, their shadows chased away by the loveliness of him. Without thinking she framed his face, her long hands on either cheek almost encompassing the full length of his profile, as she pressed a swift kiss to his lips.

It was brief and chaste, an outpouring of effervesce which she did not know how to demonstrate in any other manner, but the second her lips met his, she was brought hurtling back to reality.

Gasping, she pulled away. Astounded by her own forwardness that her first kiss was birthed from her own initiative. But Jaime was cat-quick, shimmying up upon his forearms, moving in to claim a follow up as she sank into her pillow, raising her hand to halt him at the last second.

Shyly she shook her head.

_If I begin, I’m not certain I will want to stop at just his mouth… he makes me reckless._

_He makes me lose sight of the bigger picture… though I'm not even sure what the bigger picture is anymore._

Jaime gave her an over-exaggerated pout and despite herself she smiled again, her top row of horsey teeth raking over her bottom lip. 

“But it’s Five Days Before Yuletide…” He lowered his head to hers, his curls curtaining over the sides of her face like a weeping willow.

“…. Everything must be bestowed in fives. It’s tradition.” _His voice is silk, wily wondrous silk._ “Would you disrespect tradition Brienne?”

She shook her head unpresumptuously as he stretched to her hairline, the column of his throat temptingly close to her lips.

“One.” He kissed the centre of her brow.

“Two, Three.” A peck to each cheek.

“Four-” The tip of her nose.

He paused as if weighing a decision.

She tapped her jaw. “My chin, My Lord.”

“No… that is a different place. That would make Six. And we can’t have that.”

He tilted his head so their noses wouldn’t bump and she became lost in a sea of green.

“Five…”

She squeaked as he fit his lips to hers, lingering upon them for longer than he had any other place. Close mouthed but incredibly soft as he moved them lazily, in no hurry to end the contact.

When he finally pulled away it felt like a flaying. The toastiness he had instigated within her turning her complexion to rose.

“I’m going to go get dressed.” Jaime rolled off her languidly, smiling to himself as though he had just won a tourney.

When he left the room Brienne buried herself beneath the covers, the squeal of happiness she permitted herself muffled by the thick blankets.

########

The warrior maiden sat patiently whilst Cynthie towelled her hair dry after her bath, a painstaking process but necessary in the cold Winter.

When Brienne was a girl her hair got wet all the time, soaked with ocean waves as sand clung to the beach tousled strands. Those were the simple days of carefree roaming where it mattered little how long the sun took to evaporate the clinging vestiges of the Straits, stripping the moisture and bleaching her blonde just that bit lighter. But now she was constantly reminded how much her wellbeing mattered. The fire roaring in the hearth, keeping her room heated as her attendant hurriedly worked.

“You can’t catch cold Mistress.” Cynthie said as she fussed, her face obscured by the flapping towel. “That wouldn’t be fitting.”

“Aye.” Gloria chimed in cheerfully, Brienne recognised her voice amongst the rustling noises. “Our Lady must be kept in the very best of health… pitter patter.”

A chorus of titters accompanied that comment.

_Pitter, patter? This must be some form of in-house joke amongst common women._

She swatted the towel away from her face in order to see the room. Gloria was stripping the bed, issuing instructions to the other two servants assisting her.

_I liked those sheets… they were just beginning to smell like Jaime._

“Gloria…” Brienne called politely. “… you are not required to change the linen. It will serve just fine.”

The expression on the serving woman’s face was sheepish. “I thought you’d be wanting fresh covers My Lady… of that I was quite certain. ‘Tis no trouble.”

Another round of high girlish laughter lilted.

“Mayhaps we be changin' them tomorrow as well.” Daphne chortled.

_Oh… this is about this morning…._

Although Brienne had decided that the young women’s exposure to her sleeping arrangements didn’t bother her, by the same token she didn’t appreciate them discussing it so openly. As their liege Lady she had been nothing but lenient and kind. Never reprimanding and only treating them with the utmost of politeness and respect. But now she feared they may take advantage of her forbearing nature.

_Jaime said it was possible the staff were behind half the rumour-mill and I must think ahead… if our pillow play this morning was any indication, our time as mere companions is swiftly coming to an end…sooner rather than later…_

“Ladies – a word if you please.” Keeping her tone clipped, she waited until they all stood to attention. “Unfortunately, this morning the lines of privacy became blurred. Now I admit I was partly to blame, I erred when I did not think to change the structure of our daily routine beforehand, so nobody is in trouble…”

Gloria looked particularly stricken and Brienne’s sympathies went out to the congenial young woman.

_But I must be strict or else they will not respect me – it is just like a horse or an army of soldiers._

“However – I do not appreciate my personal relationship with Lord Lannister being openly discussed and giggled about. We are man and wife, united in the sight of Gods and bound by the Light of the Seven. What ensues between a married couple in their intimate moments is sacred and should remain between them and them alone. Is that not fair?”

“Yes, My Lady.” Their mumbled responses were sufficiently cowed.

“Alright. I am glad we understand each other. You can resume your duties.”

The three shuffled back to the linens whilst Cynthie lifted the brush and began detangling her hair. 

“You’d think M’Lady would be happier about ‘aving Ser Jaime in her bed – want it to be known.”

It was a mutter, spoken under a breath but Brienne still heard it. The comment had arisen from the prettiest of her attendants.

The young woman named Pia seldom spoke and Brienne knew why, for on the odd occasion when the girl did open her mouth the maiden had been horrified to note the amount of missing or broken teeth. Recognising the signs of ill-treatment.

_Regardless…_

“Do you care to repeat that Pia?” She kept her enquiry level, calm. “Just to ensure I didn’t mishear.”

The attractive girl was sullen, her bottom lip jutting out in a petulant pout. As was her habit she covered her mouth with her hand before she spoke.

“I was only saying that I thought M’Lady would be proud to give her body to his Lordship, ‘ave him warm ‘neath her sheets, with his crown of curls and smooth skin. He is kindly to a woman, he ‘as always been kindly to me.”

_What is she saying?_

Blood rushed behind her ears as her mind jumped to conclusions.

_Has he… with her…?_

_She is certainly fetching and feminine of form…_

Hurriedly she collected her flummoxed thoughts. She had already been muted too long and the insolence could not go unaddressed.

“That may be your opinion Pia but it would be advisable to keep it to yourself.” Brienne’s mouth set in a line of its own accord as she struggled to keep from betraying her upset. “Your role is to assist me – not to question my instructions.”

The other women were stunned into silence by the exchange, going about their work with efficiency and keeping their gaze to the ground.

Pia nodded, murmuring trite apologies, looking away as if chastened but not before Brienne saw the flash of envy in her eyes.

_She is jealous._

It was a disquieting thought. And an iron cage clamped around her heart as she tried to imagine the ‘hows’ or the ‘whys’.

#######

“There’s my Winsome Wench!” Jaime’s smile was ebullient, tossing his arms open wide in greeting as he swept her into an embrace. His elevated mood from the stolen kisses abiding throughout the afternoon. The room was bathed in a soft amber aura, sunset rays coursing through the oriel windows and a blaze crackling merrily away below the mantel. “I’m sorry Lordly life dragged me away. I had some urgent messages I needed to attend to.” He nosed behind her ear, snuffling into her hair like an inquisitive puppy. “You smell scrumptious.”

“It’s a new fragrance.” Brienne’s timbre was stiff, afflicted still by Pia’s insinuative remarks. Dampening her high spirits and casting a cloud over her disposition. “I’m not certain about it – I fear I more resemble a dessert than a woman.”

“Well both I find delicious.” He took a series of exaggerated inhales. “Cinnamon….” _Sniff._ “Vanilla…” _Whiff, whiff._ “….mmmm maybe a hint of treacle?”

His lips grazed the shell of her ear as he purred. “I would gladly forgo my last course in favour of tasting you.”

Extricating herself she stepped away from his stranglehold, his arms suddenly feeling more like binding ropes than affection. “That is very kind of you to say Ser.”

Jaime titled his head to the side, trying to decrypt her change in temperament.  
  


Maintaining composure as best she could, she headed across the room and plopped onto the cushioned lounge. Releasing the expiration from her inflated lungs in one continual gust, willing her lachrymosity to ebb.

_It is all supposition; I must not let my diffidence convict him without a trial._

She looked to the small table in the centre of the rug, hoping for a goblet of water to wet her parched mouth. Instead, for the first time since arriving in the room, she noticed an array of boxes arranged artfully in the centre of the varnished elm. They varied in size and were all painted in the same aureate colour, topped with a large azure bow.

“What are these?”

Even as she asked - she knew the answer, brushing her fingertips across the gilded edges. Her heart sank…

_He continues to spoil me whilst I doubt him._

“Five golden presents.” Jaime winked, two chalices threaded between his digits, his right arm encircled around a flagon. “And to continue the theme ‘Arbour Gold.’”

He settled himself down beside her, the crystal clinking musically as he juggled the delicate vessels. Pouring for both of them and chatting jovially. “I missed you today, I did not mean to disappear… I was hoping we could have lunch together but at least now my responsibilities are out of the way I can take all the time I want.” He slid the now full goblet towards her before leaning on the back of the chair and looking at her expectantly. “Are you going to open them? I know the boxes are pretty but wait until you see what’s inside…”

Obligingly she leant over snaring the largest box.

“Do you always go for the big ones Brienne?” He teased, folding a muscular leg beneath him and reclining back to spectate.

She decided not to dignify that with an answer.

Unravelling the first ribbon, she placed it neatly aside as she lifted the lid.

Within she found lavish black lining, the moulded fitting proudly displaying an exquisite and very expensive looking pendant. A chain of yellow gold supported the setting, the bale itself fashioned into two roaring lions, rearing upon their hind legs and standing front to front. Beyond that lay a sapphire which rivalled a pigeon’s egg for size and shape, surrounded by a halo of alternating starbursts and crescent moons, each one encrusted with either diamonds or rubies.

“I had it designed-“ Jaime explained with excitation. “-it incorporates our two sigils.”

Brienne picked up the next box, hastily unwrapping it to find the matching earrings.

The next parcel contained the bracelet, then a ring and lastly a haircomb.

Wordlessly she lined each open box up side by side, staring at the gifts, their contents sparkling brightly with each twirl of flame.

Effulgent, splendiferous and gleaming.

Her husband observed each action with keen interest, placing a hand on her knee when she continued to be unforthcoming.

“My Lady…” He sounded disappointed. “…Do you not like them?”

Taking a deep breath she removed his hand, placing it upon the cushion and fixing him with her troubled cerulean marbles.

“Jaime… they are beautiful. Pieces such as these could be fit for a Queen…”

There it was. The flare up of rancour. Ruffling her feathers and descending a deluge upon her heart.

“… but they are not me. I was not made for finery like this.”

“Nonsense…” He was all compassion as he edged closer. “… your eyes can outshine these gems any day of the week. You’re my wife now Brienne, you will not go deprived of life’s luxuries…”

“But that’s just the thing.” She vaulted from her seat with such speed she almost sent his goblet toppling. Pacing up and down the length of the table as she ranted. “I do not _want_ such things Jaime. You said you did not wish to change me! When have I _ever_ worn baubles and decorations?!”

“I just thought you didn’t have any.” He looked like a wounded child; his face puckered so much he could trip over his bottom lip.

“I am a noblewoman by birth, if I wanted to parade myself in attention grabbing trinkets I could. But that is not my style-“ Her orbs flashed as she wheeled on him. “-that is far more Cersei.”

She had done it. Spoken the forbidden name.

The one person they had never discussed since they joined hands in a rank prison cell.

As though the utterance of her moniker could summon a toxic fog.

Brienne felt as though she could cry. Throughout these last few days she had been unable to pinpoint what was holding her back from surrendering to Jaime’s affections, from disclosing the innermost drumming of her heart. And now here – in a package wrapped literally with a bow – was the catalyst to her inquisition.

She needed to unbury the truth, dogged but terrified of what she may find. Knowing full well she may shatter her fragile emotions in the process.

“I am not her Jaime.” She shook her head vehemently, trying to banish the tears from her eyes. “And I never will be.”

“I-“ The lion swallowed, running a hand over his beard in stress. “-I don’t want you to be her.”

“Really?” Her inflection raised on the end as she questioned the validity of that claim. “Because this regalia says otherwise.”

She swept her hand out in front of her, encompassing all the boxes in the gesture. “I am not pretty husband. I am not a show pony. What else can I say to you, to make you see the reality of who you married? The beast that you took to wife…” Her gaze bore into a single spot on the wall. “’You can trick out a milk cow in crupper, crinet and chamfron and bard her all in silk – but that doesn’t mean you can ride her into battle.’” She heard her own octave begin to crack upon the last few words as Jaime cringed, recognising his own insult and jumping to his feet.

“Brienne… I …”

“No!” She pointed at him with a shaking finger. “You will let me finish. You will let me get this out or I swear to you there will be nothing left between us to salvage. If you cannot answer me with scrupulous honesty right here, right now then we may as well seek annulment.” Her breath shuddered. “I know I am homely. That is never going to change. And my looks are only going to deteriorate as I am ravaged by time. I will never be more than I am. Your twin is hailed the most beautiful woman in the land and you are gorgeous Jaime. Every woman who sees you will always want you. By predisposition alone you are used to a certain standard, your attraction must belong with someone fairer than I.”

“It doesn’t.” He shook his head. “I swear it.” 

“Then answer me this…” She jittered her leg to alleviate some of her angst, unable to stand still. “…have you been in bed with Pia? Has she lain between your sheets?”

His expression was pained, it provided enough of an answer.

“Gods you have.” Her mien crumpled notwithstanding her best efforts, collapsing upon itself as lakes burst their banks.

“My Lady… it’s not what you think. Your wording has backed me into a corner making it sound much more incriminating than the truth actually is…”

“You couldn’t wait for me? I know men have needs but….” She swiped angrily at the rivers running down her cheeks, furious with herself for letting this vulnerability show. “… you wrote that you cared for me. I would have been prepared otherwise. I would have steeled myself and known this was a charade.”

A sob wracked her chest as she hugged herself. “I believed. I was foolish and I believed you even though I was warned. Schooled that men tell lies and my mirror alone knew the truth. But then you looked at me and I lost sight, you kissed me and stupor had me in its grips, making me forget how hideous I am.” Her lashes were waterlogged, she could no longer see him.

_I am glad of it._

Her divulgence lowered to a whisper, the last sentence the most painful of all to admit. “I was going to let you have your way with me tonight. I decided this morning to trust you. Play the only card I have that might be of some interest to a man. Be all in for you.” She gulped. “Now on top of being unsightly, I am a simpleton.”

She didn’t see him coming when he captured her face in his hands, real and gold, warm and cold. Tilting her face down to stare into his own.

“Brienne I can’t take this. I can’t stand seeing you this distressed and it’s all without cause.” His flesh and blood digits stroked her cheek, rivulets detouring and shattering against his thumb as it wiped below her eye. “I love you.” It was the first time he had said it out loud, declaring it to the ether and her in person. “Hear me, heed me. I love you. I know who you are, I see you in living colour and I love you, no one else. You.”

Brienne had run out of things to say. The well of rebukes and accusations running dry. So she just whimpered softly and listened, blinking slowly and making a fresh cascade burst forth.

“Allow me to set the record straight – for you have it misconstrued. And I realise now how damning this all looks from your perspective. Turns out I was right when I said we needed to talk about personal things. That which impinges upon our souls.”

He lowered his right arm, enveloping her tightly as if afraid she would turn and run.

_The thought did occur to me – but that was before I heard that phrase._

_Those three little words in that one monumental phrase which I have yearned to hear from his lips… I am gullible and I am a halfwit but hearing that makes me want to stay right here with him._

Her chest jolted violently with a sob and he drew her closer.

“I have not fornicated with Pia. Nor will I ever.”

 _Now I am just confused…_ “But…?”

“I don’t know what she said to you, as she can be the only source of information. Qyburn – that letch, sent her to me at Harrenhal. I was asleep in my bed when she clambered beneath the blankets and pressed up against me, telling me how I have been the object of her fancy since she watched me ride to victory in the lists. However, I sent her away, with a polite no. I do not deny that she holds appeal but I have never entertained more than a passing thought of taking her in that manner. At the end of the day she is not my type and I am not that sort of man.”

Before she knew what she was doing, she had enclosed him in her arms. Resting her head into the crook of his neck and breathing his unique pheromone. Calming herself, whilst her legs buckled with relief. “Then why is she here?”

“I rescued her upon a return trip. She had been treated abominably and I felt somehow responsible. I took her as my washerwoman and last I knew she was bedding down with my Squire Peck.” He gave a slight chuckle. “I’ll take it they had a falling out if she is back to idealising me.”

Jaime held her in just the way she needed, his hand roaming the planes of her back and loosening the invisible knots which had formed while he talked. “I am now somewhat abashed to restate so blatantly something I said to Lady Catelyn back when we first met, but the status had not changed for me.” The lion filled his cheeks with air, letting it out in a short puff along with the statement. “I have only ever been with Cersei, my sister. One woman to whom I was blindly faithful and unequivocally true. Whether she deserved it or not.”

When he fell silent she snatched a glance up at him, noting the way he worked his tongue in his cheek as though there were many things he wanted to confide but was not. After long consideration he resumed. “My relationship with my sister dissolved some time ago. Along the way we grew apart. Little did I know, I was clinging to an illusion and what I misinterpreted as love could have been built on quicksand for all the lack of integrity in its foundations. You speak of being dim-witted Wench but I am an ignoramus and it only took me the majority of my life, everything I had and several slaps in the face to come to my senses.” He squeezed her tighter. “You fear I cannot be satisfied with you because you are nothing like her – but my love, one of the reasons why I adore you so completely is because you are her antithesis.”

#######

Sometime later Brienne awoke with a start. The room was almost completely shrouded in darkness, the fire barely smouldering, burnt down to just glowing embers. She was nestled in the crook of Jaime’s arm upon the lounge, having succumbed to the drain of her emotional meltdown, the squall of emotions leeching her of energy.

Unfolding the hand tucked beneath her, she grazed her lion’s beard, rousing him gently from his own nap. “Husband… the flames are almost gone. The room will be freezing soon.”

His eyes fluttered open, giving a subtle nod as he stretched his cramped limbs.

“Best close the offending boxes.” He shut their lids with a wooden click. “I apologise Brienne, I should have known better. I will see to it that you never have to catch sight of them again.” The lion smirked. “Playing the odds, only failing on one out of eight isn’t so bad.”

She stopped him on the last piece. “Don’t get rid of them. I wish to keep them.”

“Brienne why?” He was entirely baffled. “Whenever you look at them you shall recall your upset…”

“No.” The maiden corrected him softly. “Whenever I wear them, I will be reminded of the first time you told me you love me aloud.”

It was a pleased grin which he flashed her then. “The first of many.”

“Promises, promises.” Rising from the seat, she rubbed her eyes, yawning and flexing her stiff cheeks. “I am still tired; I could fall to sleep at the snap of fingers. I look forward to lying down upon a mattress where I fit instead of a lounge built for people of ordinary height.” She bit her lip.

“…. are you coming to bed?”

Jaime bowed graciously, ever incorrigible but looking quite exhausted himself.

“There is nowhere I’d rather be.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to take a moment to thank everyone who is reading this holiday tale.
> 
> I also wanted to say a big, huge, thank you for anyone who takes the time to comment.  
> I know it is the busy season, but hearing from you means the world to me.  
> Each comment I receive makes my Christmas a little bit brighter. <3


	10. 4 Days Before Yuletide...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scene 1 Brienne's POV  
> Scene 2 Jaime's POV
> 
> Cover Art by Ro_Nordmann  
> [](https://www.flickr.com/photos/185980079@N02/49211612893/in/dateposted-public/)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter follows on from the previous, as once the avenues of communication are open, conversation keeps on flowing.  
> I also need to note that the Rating of this tale has been upgraded to Explicit.  
> This is the first time I have put this rating on one of my fics…. and well....
> 
> NSFW - enough said. Oh and some coarse language.  
> I'm gonna go hide amongst my Christmas Lights now LOL

“I kneed him in the groin.”

Jaime guffawed, selecting a small cube of fruitcake from the tray and dropping it into her mouth.

“A well-deserved reward.” He praised as she chewed. “Although I am disgusted by these men – Hells, I’m not sure I would even call them that. How could you tell me this now when I have no outlet for my wrath?”

“You asked if anyone had tried to kiss me before and that is the answer.” Brienne shrugged. “You just didn’t know it was a multi-faceted question.”

They were having an indolent day, something the habitually active warrior maid had definitely never indulged in before.

Lying back on her bed during the waking hours whilst a raging snowstorm howled outside the fortress walls. A large silver tray had been delivered to the chamber, laden with Yuletide treats and warm spiced milk. The thrilling selection of sweets and nibbles making her eyes light up with a childlike glee. But her husband had told her the goodies came with a proviso.

They would answer each other’s probing questions, being rewarded by their partner for their bravery and honesty with a bite-sized morsel.

At first she had been bashful, wondering if the inducement was worth the price. But when Jaime had begun bringing titbits to her mouth - teasing her lips open as he placed the delicacies upon her tongue – the sensual aspect of the game outweighed everything else.

She herself had been cheeky, taking advantage of the wide berth her Ladies were giving them to dress herself for comfort. Finding one of her beloved oversized shifts and opting for it over the customary nightgown. She was painfully aware of its shorter length, ending just above the knee and bestowing upon her husband a completely unhindered view of her legs.

 _Though he has seen more of me previously…_

Jaime himself was clad in loose fitting soft breeches, the laces of his nightshirt left hanging open, baring his chest in a deep ‘V’. She wondered if it was a purposeful manoeuvre or a result of his aversion to fastening the ties one-handed.

_Either way – I don’t mind the sight._

He lay on his side, informally leaning upon his elbow. His head propped up against his stump, for once displaying his wrist in place of the prosthetic. She had tried not to stare at the flesh he generally kept concealed, the ragged deep burgundy of the scarline and disfigured skin a cause of fascination to her but not for the reasons he would assume. She wasn’t repulsed by it - but rather pleased to see him without façade.

_He does not need a piece of gold to make him appear like a complete man… he is perfect without his hand._

He combed his curls back from his face with his fingers, a scowl darkening his handsome features.

“So it was all that Cunt’s idea was it?”

“That was Hunt, Ser Jaime – not the other name. And it wasn’t entirely him, there were two more masterminds.”

“Don’t defend him.” The lion groused. “Cunt I said and Cunt I mean. If the outlaws hadn’t hung the miserable whoreson I soon would have done way worse. Why were you travelling with him anyway? A cretin of such low morals - he could have done anything to you.”

“I can fend for myself as my story proves.” She battled against the smile which pulled at the corners of her mouth. “I wish I could commend you for taking such vehement personal offence to a threat upon my honour My Lord. But given your insistent victimisation of that particular perpetrator, instead of despising all the wrong doers in equal measure, I cannot help but suspect there may be an underlying cause…” The new Lady Lannister sipped her spiced milk, her sapphires sparkling with newly found gall. “…I never cared for him Jaime. Not in any way.”

“I should say not.” Her husband harrumphed. “And I’m pleased to hear they all failed. My woman is not so credulous as to believe the half-arsed, poorly fabricated coercions of unworthy debauchers.”

“No.” She screwed up her face in jest, shaking her head. “Instead I am far more susceptible to the wooing of a sworn enemy lord, who wields insults in place of compliments, goads me at every turn, delights in making me blush with the most licentious of comments he can contrive and ambushes me when I am bathing. We must be mutually relieved my judgment is so sound.”

“Well I for one am.” He rubbed the tip of his nose against hers. “All your firsts belong to me alone. Misguided or not.” Jaime delivered a swift peck to her lips and she erupted into a coy grin. “I consider it a blessing that your shrewdness is dulled in my presence. However else would I succeed in making you my woman? No Lady in her right mind would attach herself to me.”

“Half the women in Westeros would gladly give all their worldly possessions for a single night with you.”

“And yet here I am – competing against the High Septon himself with my abstinence.”

_Hmmmm, he raises a good point._

Brienne idly traced the rim of her cup with her finger as she ruminated over her next question.

“Alright.” She deposited the vessel back upon the tray with a definitive clink. “Your turn – and as my question was especially uncomfortable, I intend to match you in directness.”

“Should I be worried?” He didn’t look it; in actuality he faced the prospect with levity.

“Perhaps.” The maid mused. “How long since you last…. partook of a woman.” Her nostril flared as she adjusted her wording. “Your former inamorata.” A defeated sigh. “Cersei.”

At least her enquiry succeeded in achieving the improbable. For once in his life Jaime Lannister seemed taken aback. “Brienne! Are you asking me when I last had sex?!”

“Yes.”

“Why in Seven Hells do you want to know that?”

“It seems a fair question.” She ran her blunted fingernails along the grooves in the tray’s handle, feeling the ridges whilst trying to explain her logic. “You said you became estranged from her and I suppose I want to know when that divide extended into a physical barrier. I always presumed the two of you carried on as normal after I left. Or whatever definition of ‘normal’ your unique relationship could have. I never pictured you moving on….”

_Especially not with me._

Brienne wasn’t sure how she could put her concerns to voice. A part of her wanted to know if his place at her side was just a passing phase, a trance he was likely to come out of, sending him sprinting back to the lover he always knew. Or could it perhaps be a permanent state of affairs as he suggested… a fork in the road for the twins from which there could be no reunion.

“You said ‘some time ago’ but that is vague…. I want to know if it is a recent development.”

“Ahhh. You’re sceptical. You think Cersei and I had a falling out and departing to the Rock was a viable solution.” His expression was injured but she wasn’t backing down. It had hurt to tell him about the bet at Bitterbridge.

“To an extent – and I will remind you that this conversation was your idea.” Her openness with him in this moment was unblemished. _And it is taking a lot of courage…_

“I am also curious about when you were last….” She found a fraying thread on the blanket and began tugging at it. “…gratified. You know my own answer is never and that is somewhat unfair. I would like to know your answer in return.” She selected a spherical dessert from one of the small bowls, picking it up gingerly between two fingers and giving it a sniff. “There is one of these creations on offer for your answer. It smells as if it contains alcohol, so I suspect you will like it.” 

“Bribery.” Somehow he managed to seem proud of her, crawling over the top of the covers. “My corrupt influence over you grows by the day - and I like _that_.” He tried to nip at the sweet but she held it out of reach.

“Answer. Or no treat.”

“Fine.” The fire in his eyes suggested it wasn’t just the treat he was interested in. “You remember the day we arrived back in King’s Landing?”

“When I was dragged back and hauled into the dungeons?”

“No. The time before that. When you walked in with me by your side only to be confronted by Loras Tyrell.”

“How could I forget. What of it?”

“That day.”

Now it was her turn to be floored. “Jaime – that was well over a year ago!”

“You’re telling me.” He laughed at his own expense. “Now where’s my reward?” He held her wrist gently, suckling unnecessarily at her fingers as he took the morsel straight from her hand. Although her subconscious was so busy making connections and calculating timelines that she almost didn’t register the tantalising sensation.

“Not bad.” He playfully licked his lips and rolled onto his back. Clasping his hand over his stump where they rested in the centre of his chest. “What are you thinking about Wench? I can hear your brain working overtime.”

She placed both hands on the mattress, leaning upon fully outstretched arms to peer down at him, her eyes boring into his in earnest. “Jaime are you telling me that since we met – you were only ever with Cersei once again?” She could scarce believe what she was saying, it sounded too incredible to be true. “Just one time? Before….”

“I started to refuse her?” He nodded. “You have it correct.”

His smile was all knowing as he guessed the conclusion she had drawn. “You see Wench? It’s interesting isn’t it?”

Jaime sat up, so they were inches apart. “Cersei wrote to me – asking for me to fight for her, to defend her against the Faith - but I didn’t go. I threw her note in the fire. By contrast, when you showed up out of the blue in my camp, I dropped everything to answer to your beck and call.” 

He brought an index finger to the indent of her chin, outlining her full bottom lip as he spoke.

“All this time you have wasted worrying about Cersei. When since you came striding into my life - in all your magnificent, stubborn, hard-headed glory – she should have been the one threatened by you.” He raised both eyebrows. “Only she was too arrogant to see it. That changed when we returned from the Brotherhood, when you were to stand to trial. Then her jealous claws came out for the both of us.”

“So you brokered a deal and married me… thwarting her and….”

“Getting the woman I want.” He touched his forehead to hers. “And now for the first time, you see the full picture – and how deeply I have fallen for you.”

#######

“Not to sound demanding-” Brienne had that sportive air about her. The one he usually only got to enjoy in the practice yard. “But there seems to have been a notable absence of the number ‘Four’ today.” She gazed at him in hopeful anticipation. “It would be very poor form not to acknowledge one of the Yuletide days because of a bit of bad weather.”

_Fuck she’s adorable._

Hours had flown by as they relaxed together. Day melding seamlessly into night without them even noticing. Their entire focus wrapped up in their spouse and the paradisal ambience generated by two people in love.

_She loves me… I can feel it. I know I have been wrong before but this just feels so right…_

His gaze traversed the miles of her bare legs, lingering upon dustings of nutmeg coloured freckles, just as spicy and alluring as the aromatic itself.

She noticed his attentions and wriggled the hem lower.

“Were our treats the surprise? Because they were lovely…” Her guileless marbles made him weak. “It’s just – I noticed more than four varieties upon our tray.”

_I would give her the world if she wanted it, find a way to ensnare the moon so every night was romantic, rearrange the stars in her likeness… and name the new constellation ‘Brienne’s Freckles.’_

“I do have something for you today Sweetling…” He crooned, desperate to kiss her, pull those thighs around him, suggest what things they could do four times…. “But it’s in my chambers and I haven’t left here all day.”

Jaime rolled off the bed in one agile move, bounding straight to his feet and headed for the door. _I can’t have My Lady disappointed…_

“I will fetch it.” He promised. “Though you may find today’s offering a little obscure, I hope you see the humour in it.”

He was a good distance down the hall when he heard the footfalls sneaking up behind him.

“Brienne!” He pivoted around to face her. “How am I supposed to retrieve your surprise if you are with me?”

“I’m coming Ser.” She gave him that defiant look. “I haven’t left my room for hours either and I grow tired of those four walls. A change of scenery sounds ideal.”

She ran her toes across the soft bristles of the carpet, drawing nondescript patterns. Her fidgeting was often a way she distracted herself, when her present turn of thought became daunting. Another endearing trait which he had observed, an idiosyncrasy unique to her and completely beguiling. “Besides… I have not yet visited your lair. Am I unwelcome?”

“Of course not.” He glanced anxiously down the hall.

In truth he was hesitant to invite her in, he knew he had stashed more than just today’s offering in his private abode and they weren’t exactly hidden. “But mayhaps give me a minute? It will be cold and I must instruct the staffers to get a blaze started.” He jogged down the corridor before she could argue.

Flying through the entrance he hastily grabbed one of her unwrapped gifts, dithering on the spot in an indecisive panic before shoving it in his wardrobe, burying it deep within the spare clothes.

“There is a fire in the hearth…” Her low voice made the hackles on the back of his neck stand erect.

_For once it’s just my hairs she’s having that effect on…_

Slamming the door shut he whipped around to find her in the centre of his chamber. Looking about the room with awe and inquisitiveness. “…why did you lie?”

In the firelight she was superb, her tall straight spine and regal posture making him feel irrationally guilty for fibbing – even if it was with a good cause.

“I had my reasons Wench.”

She stalked purposefully towards him, her carriage more of a knight than a Lady. Managing somehow to look imposing in her flimsy shift…

_Gods…it’s transparent when she stands in front of the flames._

He drank in the sight of her silhouette, the soft curve of her hip and waist, becoming adrift in a stream of impure thoughts. 

“Ser Jaime – that answer is not at all satisfactory.” She stood in front of him, glaring down at him in all her majesty. “We were being candid with each other today.”

“This is something I cannot say… but it is not harmful.” His gaze darted sideways of its own accord, betraying the location of another secret item.

“Hmmmm.” Her eyes narrowed suspiciously but she turned and wandered away.

He breathed a sigh of relief.

_I got away with it…_

“So… this is the Lion’s Den.” His wife smiled, taking in the surrounds.

The curtains were all Lannister crimson, the mouldings chased in gold, his enormous bed covered in the softest furs which matched the giant rug stretching in front of the hearth. His furniture was redwood, the cushions and tabletops leather, a carafe of deep burgundy wine stood in the corner, goblets at the ready. The three scents permeated the air in the close confines, mingling with the aroma of burning wood.

“I like it.” She announced. “It’s masculine and smells like you.” 

“I am happy it pleases you.” He bowed teasingly. “My chamber is your chamber whenever you wish it my wife. You need only knock and I will gladly have you join me here. Any hour, day or night.”

“Good.” Her teeth worried her bottom lip, changing its rose hue from the pressure. “Which makes me wonder what you were hiding from me before?”

_Oh no – we’re back there._

“One of your gifts Wench.” He relented in exasperation. _Obstinate woman._ “It is not intended for tonight.”

“There is more than one in here?” Her expressive face came alive, enthralled by the concept. As if he had just told her of a treasure hunt.

“Brienne… I came in here to retrieve today’s….”

“Is that the one over here?” In three long strides she was by his window. “You glanced this way before.”

“You watch my eyes?” He was thrilled by the concept. That she noted the subtleties in his eyes as much as he studied her lips, her complexion, her …. _Everything._

“Always.” She craned her neck up to the small sprigs of plant which hung by the panelled glass. Its leaves kept green on the stalk by its careful positioning to catch the winter rays. “What is this?” Brienne’s speckled hand carefully felt one of the small white berries.

“A plant I had imported from Essos.” His voice held a chuckle as he gave up, surrendering to the fact that she had caught him out. “I was going to show you on Yuletide Eve.”

“It is not Yuletide foliage I am familiar with – but then only certain species can withstand the saline soil upon Tarth.” She looked at him then, her countenance so tender he wanted nothing more than to bundle her in an embrace. “Are you upset with me for ruining your plans?”

“Not remotely Sweetling, I can deny you nothing.”

He approached her then, running his fingers up her proud jawline, adoring the way she closed her eyes and leant into his touch.

_How I wish I had two hands to caress her with…_

“May I ask its significance?” She moved into him, letting his stump draw her closer. “All festive flora has a meaning…”

“It is meant for kissing.”

Her lids retreated back, revealing her blue full moons, as she tried to process what he had just said. “The plant?”

“Not the plant. The people beneath it. Tradition states that if two people come together, standing beneath the sprigs, they must kiss.” He pressed his lips to her ear, his timbre husky. “I confess – my acquiring it was all just a ploy to get to kiss you.”

“You went to such pains My Lord.” Her hand was sneaking up his shirt front, inch by inch he could feel it climb higher as the other rubbed the back of his neck. “Did it ever occur to you to ask me?”

The truth was – it hadn’t.

Not in all his scheming, ordering and strategizing how he would win her heart had he thought of simply asking her for what he wanted.

It was so straightforward he could laugh. _But that is my Brienne, sweet and undemanding…._

“My Lady –“ He was all chivalry, his tenor the soft flow of honey from a spoon. “-May I kiss you?” Smirking he added. “Properly.”

There was no ingenuity to her reply, just a raw whisper, spoken straight from her soul. “I would welcome it my husband.”

From that point forward they were just lips, him beginning slowly with the soft pecks she’d come to know. Knowing what she would feel confident with and then increasing as their need amplified. He began to press harder, licking at her bottom lip, teasing it with nips until her mouth parted in a gasp. That was when his tongue sought hers, gliding hungrily into her recesses, his hand woven in her blonde hair.

Jaime felt his heart swelling at her naïve clumsiness. His ardour burning brighter whenever she turned her head in the wrong direction or clicked her teeth against his. He was enchanted when she brought their noses together in an accidental jumble of flesh or even at one stage nicked his lip, pinching it between her teeth just a tad too hard in her eagerness.

He felt her shudder each time, crumpling a little in shame, embarrassed by the skills she lacked.

But he knew her incoordination was a reflection of her innocence, of how she was his alone and it just made each of her fumbles even more sublime. 

Suddenly she pulled away, rapidly snatching a large lungful of air. “I’m sorry…” She muttered. “…I forgot to breathe.”

“Am I taking your breath away my love?” He stroked her temple with the back of his index finger, beaming at his wife, positively overflowing with affection. “Fear not, you will become well-versed in how lips dance. I will make sure of it.”

“I hope so.” Her cheeks were flushed. “I feel I will look forward to practice sessions. And I’m going to need them daily.”

“Oh you will be getting drilled morning, evening and night…” He cherished the sound of her giggle as he kissed behind her ear, overjoyed that he could elicit such a celestial sound from his typically taciturn woman. He was nuzzling further into the divine patch of skin when he recalled what his original mission was.

“I almost forgot. We came in here so I could get your present.”

Releasing his wife, he wandered over to the chest of drawers, opening the top and producing a drawstring pouch.

“Jaime – you don’t have to give me anything. Since barging unannounced into your room you have already given me one gift which I spoilt and then the most mesmerising of kisses…” She grew heated even mentioning it. “Couple that with today and I certainly do not deserve anymore...”

“It’s alright Wench, this gift is quite unique. I’m not certain how you will feel about it.” He held out the pouch by its handles, trying not to snigger. “It won’t bite but it is equally alarming.”

“Alarming? Why would my present be alarming?” She took it from him with uncertain fingers, shaking the bag to hear something rattle within.

“I would advise you pour out its contents on a surface.” He pointed to the bedside table. “Happy Four Days before Yuletide.”

Furrowing her brow she walked past him, loosening the ties and upending the contents of the bag upon the top of the leather-bound nightstand. Upon hearing the scatter, Jaime watched with amusement as she bent closer, squinting to identify the four shapes in the dim light.

“They’re teeth?!” Brienne announced, wrinkling her nostril slightly. “What in the world…? You are a very strange man Jaime Lannister.”

“It’s not what they are – it’s who they belonged to. You will notice they are quite fractured.”

“Yes, I see that.” She gave them a troubled glance, before crossing her arms across her chest. “Explain yourself husband.”

_Here goes…_

“They’re Ronnet Connington’s.”

Her blue eyes darkened at even the mention of his name and with that small hint of rage Jaime knew he would never regret for a second what he had done.

“How do you know him?” Brienne enquired; her loathing of the man barely masked in her voice.

“I have crossed paths with him several times but we had a little run in at the Harrenhal Bear Pit, where I learnt some choice history and he spoke some disparaging terms that made me quite unhappy.” He pointed to the teeth. “That’s when I knocked those out of his head. A small incident where my gold hand came into contact with his jaw.”

Brienne looked at the morbid tokens, her own mouth working backwards and forwards. “He told you?”

“Yes.”

“I can defend myself you know.”

“Oh, I know.” Jaime reiterated. “But I love you and I will not tolerate anyone speaking about you with disrespect.”

He expected a lengthy lecture, a speech on honour, a spiel about fighting her own battles.

What he did not predict was her barrelling into his arms, kissing him with the reckless abandon of a whirlwind which passed over the top of an inferno.

Passionate, frenzied kisses, showering down upon his face, his lips; fingers scratching through his beard and a hand tugging his hair, urging his mouth to hers.

He reciprocated with equal fervour, thrusting his tongue into the dark cavity of her mouth, giving her what he knew she needed.

Brienne tugged at him with a warrior’s strength, yanking at his hair, pushing him across the room, making him stumble backwards as his boot caught on the edge of the rug.

He teetered, swaying on the spot, only just maintaining his footing as he grinned at her.

“I take it that you like my offering?” 

Her pupils were an abyss, a dilated vertical drop into the cavern of her spirit. The part which remained unbroken, galloping free without strappings or bit. Here dwelt her unbridled passion, sheltered in a fortress of iron, the portcullis finally rising to allow him a glimpse of the woman within.

“It is not the defence of me that is driving me wild right now Jaime… nor the violence - even though I admit I did exact a bit of my own vengeance against that particular person.” Her tones were so abraded, they seemed to scrape against his skin. A sultriness laced with pain but also concupiscence.

“It's that you get me. You saw past my appearance, what he and everyone else sees at first glance and found a way to love me. Forged a way to that euphoric blindness that swathes the one you love in only beauty.” Dusted hands twirled the ties of his nightshirt around her fingers.

_She has me wrapped around her pinky like those cords… and I think she is finally coming to accept it._

“I'm ugly Jaime. I know it…“ She was speaking without taking measure of her statements, the verbalisations gushing forth without filter. “…But I can really love. I'm a woman in here, trapped in this hideous package. With all the same sensitivities and desires - just sometimes they take a different form. Instead of an embroidery needle, I have a sword. Instead of being comfortable in dresses, I am in breeches. I get nervous. I get tongue tied. I may stick out like a sore thumb but I am shy…” Her narration was rambling but Jaime hung on every utterance as if the Gods spoke through her. Finally getting the insight into the grail that was her heart. 

  
“…But nobody tries to see that. Men like Red Ronnet just place a label on me – ‘freak’ - and they think that gives them liberty to treat me like a second class being. And I know you said some horrid things in the beginning Jaime - because you did. And if you think they didn't hurt me - you're wrong. I remember each barb. They cut me. Those slices fester more than any I have suffered from steel.”

_I fucking hate myself. I am heinous._

_What did I gain by hurting her? Did it make me feel better? Whatever sick glee I thought I derived from slinging my insults, cost her more by a hundred fold…._   
  
As if sensing the resurgence of his self-detestation, she fit her palm soothingly against the triangle of his exposed chest.

“ ** _But_** … you strangely also respected me. You treated me as both a woman and an equal. When others would have laughed whilst the Mummers took me, written it off as the homely mule should be happy that anyone wants to ride her - you saved me. Like I was a fair maiden. Like my virtue and dignity were worth preserving. I'm the beast they toss into a pit for entertainment. I'm the hairy monster that when knights hear of my woes they pity the opposite party. Ronnet wasn't to blame for his treatment of me - he deserves pity for being betrothed to such as I. The Knights at Bitterbridge weren't to blame - what else were they to do when subjected to me in their midst?”

She gently kissed his lips. “Then there was you… _my_ Jaime. Risking your own life for mine. Listening to me and sparring with me - now you cuddle and kiss me.” Tremors rocked her exhales as she brought her lips to his once more. “It means a lot. It means so much. You can never understand how much.” Brienne trailed her hand down his arm as she stepped away, lingering upon the tips of his fingers as she lowered herself into the centre of the fur rug.

“Lie down with me.” She patted the spot next to her. “Here. Come husband.”   
  
_As she beckons… I obey…_

He biddably dropped to the plush mat beside her, equally amenable when she looped her arm around his neck and drew him in for another luscious kiss. Her lips parting beneath his without pause, moans escaping her as she felt the flicks of his tongue.

“You know all in all, you’ve been exemplary.” She commended discreetly, as though imparting a secret to be kept between them. Undisclosed to even the surrounding walls and ceiling. “A true Knight, honourable to your word.”

He knew to what she referred. “I am when I want to be you know.” Jaime winked unable to resist. “Contrary to popular belief.”

She shifted a little where she lay, gazing up at him with those electrifying blue eyes. “And in contrast to what you think… I do ache for you.”

Jaime threw her one of his best pearly smiles. “Where?” _Maybe she will tell me she loves me…_

He fit his hand over her pounding heart. “There?”

Never breaking eye contact, she took his hand in her own, lifting and moving it down, over the vast planes of her muscle and stomach. Parting her bent knees as she moved it beneath her shift, tucking it against the throbbing heat between her legs. “There.”

It was her decree of consent, by bringing him to her threshold she was permitting him the joyous right of exploration. A privilege he had pined for, which he would never refuse. He began to nip at her neck as he splayed his fingers, testing her response to when he began to move. Bringing his fingertips first to the soft skin of her inner thighs untouched by man or sunlight, sketching meandering pathways down to the seam which joined stellar legs to her heavenly centre.

Brienne released him then, happy to leave him to his wanderings, wrapping her arms around his middle and kissing him back.

He elatedly roamed the valley betwixt thigh and womanhood, prolonging the exquisite anticipation of this interlude, knowing that only once could he revel in getting to touch her for the first time. He listened to the patterns of her staccato breathing whenever he brushed against her damp smallclothes. Taking mental notes of her every response for his archive, locking her reactions away in his vault of treasures. Willing his awareness expand in order to capture each note as he advanced his ministrations, slipping his hand beneath the fabric and seeking her wet warmth.

He growled low in his throat, curling and uncurling his fingers, aroused by the saturation he discovered between her lower lips as he dipped into her inviting bay. Rubbing rings around her nub until she writhed beneath him whilst devouring her mouth in tandem and wondering which was the more eager to receive him, for both greeted him with equal avidity.

Sliding his hand further, he delighted in submerging a single finger into her centre. Feeling her clench and initially resist before the throbs of pleasure had her welcome him in. Stimulation causing his head to swim as all the blood in his body rushed to his groin.

_Fuck, she’s like a vice…._

Battling fiercely to ignore the twangs of need emanating from his pulsing groin, he instead channelled all his attention into her, moving inside her, kissing her, pawing at her small breasts through the fabric with his useless stump. Letting her yowls and rapid panting be all the pleasure he required.

“Does that feel good Sweetling?’ He crooned into her ear, evoking a long drawn out groan from her larynx.

He knew it did. He knew from the way her back arched and her body edged closer to him, the way she ground down upon his digits. Each motion of her superb physique begging for more.

The second finger was her undoing, sending her soaring over the brink. A discordant arrangement of mewls and shouts bursting from her lips, along with the occasional chant of his name. He rode the vibrations along with her, letting her ecstasy become his own, never ceasing his strokes until she lay limp and spent in his arms. He reluctantly withdrew his hand, quite happy to remain submersed in her heat but knowing she didn’t have the strength for another climax.

 _In time my love…_ He swore her a new vow. _We will build up your endurance._

Winded and sleepy, she brought a trembling hand to his cheek. Bashful in the glowing aftermath of this foreign bliss. He kissed her once, commanding his hips be still, reprimanding his demanding crotch into forgetting how wet and willing she was. _This was for her… for loving me._

Her eyes drifted shut as she huddled against him, somehow appearing more youthful when she folded in upon herself. For once unconcerned with being conspicuous due to her appearance or fronting that she could take on the world. She just wanted him to hold her, keep her fragile heart safely locked in his own. Cuddle against the man who had just led her through a sensual awakening. Her first sexual experience leaving her exhausted but sated.

_How often do I forget she has not yet seen twenty-one namedays? So young and yet so accomplished. Brave, heroic and above all else kind._

_I am an old-crippled lion, sardonic, jaded and on the edge of becoming grizzled. My days of grandeur long behind me._

_I have a lifetime on her by comparison and yet she grants me her affection, blesses me with her supple body, trusts me with her pleasure..._

_I owe her the universe. I will always put her first._

_My woman. My wife._

When the rise and fall of her chest evened out, he retrieved the blanket from the bed, nestling her within its fur and hunkering down beside her. Kissing her highbrow, petting her flaxen locks and taking care of the most precious thing in his life.


	11. 3 Days Before Yuletide...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne's POV
> 
> Cover Art by Ro_Nordmann  
> [](https://www.flickr.com/photos/185980079@N02/49211612893/in/dateposted-public/)

Brienne’s knee-high boots generated muffled footfalls against the carpet as she approached the drawing room, taking deep steadying breaths and imbuing herself with confidence.

_We have not spoken since… **that.**_

Her Ladies had arranged her outfit for today – one of the first she had beheld when presented with the ensembles – the rose undershirt with tunic and breeches of tan suede making her feel both warm and comfortable. She wore Oathkeeper at her hip and supple gloves tucked in her swordbelt. The finishing touch was a fur lined cloak, fastened around her shoulders with a pure gold clasp.

_I anticipate an excursion today – I have been dressed for the extremes._

She hesitated just outside the door upon hearing Jaime’s voice within. Her husband employing the Lordly tone he seldom used unless he was conversing with one of his advisors. 

“So we are right on schedule…I was concerned the snowstorm may have hampered the progress.”

“No, it did not My Lord.”

“Good. We shall not be in residence today – giving ample opportunity for preparations to continue. I expect everything to be in line. We haven’t come this far to flounder at the end.”

Reluctant to interrupt, the warrior maid took advantage of the moment to centre herself. Summoning the final burst of courage she would require when facing her often brazen lion.

_He will tease, that is Jaime._

_I am made of tough mettle; I can withstand a little ribbing about last night…_

Even so, the recollection alone made her cheeks begin to scald.

Clearing her throat to make her presence known, she rounded the corner. Her heart fluttering in her chest at the sight of her man.

He was attired in a similar manner as she, only his leathers were a warm matt brown, the undershirt peeking from beneath a dazzling emerald which highlighted the magnificence of his eyes. Brienne wondered if she imagined how the light within them danced when he spotted her in the entryway, waving a gloved hand dismissively at his advisor, who bowed and hastily departed, leaving them quite alone.

She somehow could not help but let her gaze sweep over him as he stalked towards her, the grandeur of the Lannister liege making her blood pump faster. His duality was staggering, the way he morphed from a deadly lion into a playful pussycat, purring in her arms.

“Good morning Wife.” Jaime stretched up to kiss her and that alone caught her by surprise. The instantaneous demonstrative display a variance from their usual playbook. It pleased her to no end as she returned his affection, the heavenly sensation of belonging to each other exuding merrily through her aura.

“Good morning Husband.”

“I’m glad to see you’re ready to take on our adventures of the day.” He beamed. “I thought we could take a leisurely jaunt into Lannisport. The marketplace will be bustling and you never know what curiosities you might find. I thought we would both be grateful of some fresh air after remaining cooped up indoors yesterday.”

“It sounds ideal.”

Appraising her garb appreciatively he added. “I see your ladies got my message about my plans for the afternoon….” A small chuckle. “…. they were quite flustered when they couldn’t locate you. None of them possess any particular genius – is it so mystifying that a wife may be in her husband’s chamber?”

Feigning a frown, she pounded her fist lightly on his breastbone. “Do not be uncharitable. I for one was quite disorientated…” Her stare descended down to the floor, where the tips of two pairs of boots stood toe to toe against the maroon and mustard swirls of the plush-pile. “… Before I opened my eyes, I had persuaded myself into believing it a particularly vivid dream. I was quite astonished when I found myself upon your rug.”

“I fetched you a blanket but alas I could not wriggle a pillow under your head without waking you. I hope the conditions were not too intolerable. But I spent the night beside you and to me it seemed quite cosy.”

“There is truth to that statement.” The smalltalk was almost painful as they danced excruciatingly around the topic and Brienne came to be of the opinion that the awkward tension was worse than the subject matter itself.

_Sometimes you just have to be unshrinking and pour the boiled wine over the wound…_

Squeezing her eyes closed she blurted out. “We did … _things_.”

Her tongue had become thick upon the last word and the resulting statement was not her most articulate.

When she peered at Jaime again, he was biting his lips in an attempt to suppress his snigger. “Why - yes we did.”

“Alright then.” She nodded resolutely. “We have acknowledged it. We are married so it is not uncouth or anything to be disconcerted about. We can now proceed as normal.”

“I wholeheartedly agree wife. Though…” He lowered his tone, so it took on his notoriously teasing edge. “…One may question if you are so at ease with the topic why your complexion is perfectly complimenting your shirt.”

“Oh, hush up.” 

He laughed as she slapped at him playfully, feeling her own lips draw into a smile.

“Tell me truthfully Jaime… did I commit a cardinal crime?” She looked at him from beneath a veil of blonde lashes, earnestly hoping she hadn’t failed him. “Falling asleep before offering you any satisfaction in return?”

“No, my Sweetling.” He twined his arm around her thick waist, steering her around as they began their slow walk down the corridor towards the outside world. “When you are in love, giving pleasure to the object of your affection becomes your own enjoyment.”

“But for you it has been so long…”

“You still held the title of waiting the longest and sometimes the anticipation is a good portion of the fun…. Though I’m beginning to fear a green squire may have more restraint than I when the time comes.” He chortled derisively at himself and she furrowed her brow as she deciphered his underlying meaning.

The outside world was pristine and crisp. The powder fresh and purest white after yesterday’s blizzard, the surface unmarred by animal or human.

She stood, sucking in large lungfuls, the scents of pineneedles, log fires and horse drifting to her upon the currents.

A low nicker caught her attention as she turned towards the crunching of snow, watching as the stablehands marched their mounts around the side of the stronghold. But she did a double take as more than two horses were paraded towards her.

_What splendid looking beasts…._

Like every noble family, Evenfall engaged a Master of Horse and their stables produced sturdy, dependable mounts. But the majority of Tarth’s military was focussed upon the sea and breeding programs did not invest the time in purifying bloodlines and ensuring the highest calibre of stock. _Clearly Casterly Rock is different._

Brienne stepped forward, their trek ahead temporarily forgotten, gaping at the spectacular creatures led before her.

“Who is this?” She enquired of the handler, rubbing the flanks of the massive blood bay Destrier. “Surely he is one of your prized stud stallions? He must be at least Seventeen Hands tall…”

The groom ducked his head without answering, struggling to hold the feisty beast. And she couldn’t help but chuckle as the steed tossed its head, snorting and kicking sideways, expressing his immense dislike of staying still.

“But why is he out of the stables? Tourney horses do not fare well in the snow…”

“He is out – so he can meet his new owner.” Jaime swaggered towards her, looking extremely pleased with himself as he gestured to the other two horses. “Along with your new Courser and Palfrey.”

“They’re mine?” She gripped the Destrier’s halter as he grew even more restless, her natural strength helping to keep the massive beast restrained. She was positive her eyes must have grown immense, as juvenile buoyancy took hold, her large mouth gaping uncontrollably. “Jaime they are gorgeous!”

“I will only have you carried by the very best of mounts. I could not entrust the love of my life to anything less.” He kissed her cheek, swiftly dodging a blow from powerful equine legs. “Happy Three Days before Yuletide my wife.”

Zealously she moved on to inspect the Courser, the ebon black of its coat striking against the blanched surrounds. She stroked its nose and marvelled at its markings, tall socks and a white patch on its forehead almost resembling a crooked crescent moon. “Did you select this horse?”

“I confess I did… and I may have been influenced by its pattern. Your Destrier is the closest to Lannister crimson a horse can claim, so I figured this one should have the element of Tarth. That way you can carry both our houses should you ride to joust one day.”

“That is for Knights Ser… not Ladies.”

“Have I taught you nothing?” He had edged up behind her, making her jump when he nipped at the small space of neck available to him above her cloak, muscular arms encircling around her torso. “Rules are made for bending. I will even host the tournament if it means I can decide who enlists.”

“You speak my language Ser, yet the melee is my event of choice…”

“Then I will have them start building a stadium.” He nuzzled into her neck, continuing a rain of tantalising kisses until she brushed him off, remembering they were not alone. Prompting him to throw her an especially sulky look.

“Jaime… we must embark or else we will not have the time to enjoy the fair before we must head back.” She pecked him once on the lips for good measure, gripping his right wrist through his sleeve. Knowing intuitively just the spot where he would feel it. “Thank you. I love them. But now I must go meet my Palfrey. It and I must be acquainted for the long ride ahead.”

#######

As it turned out her Palfrey was a mare. An even tempered, sure footed mount with a coat of glossy chestnut brown. Brienne couldn’t help but praise her lavishly as she petted her neck, complimenting her upon her smooth gait in the slippery conditions.

“Keep that up Wench and I may very well get jealous.”

She looked to the sky in mock askance as he reined up beside her, his own horse matching hers stride for stride. “Do you realise the significance behind my choice of gift for you today?”

“You explained already…”

“Not this part.” He glowed with pride. “Remember when you first purchased three horses for our little travelling party?”

“Jaime that was so long ago!” She exclaimed, memories playing in montage through her mind’s eye. “How did you ever think of it?”

“Surely you jest? That one-eyed white thing is ingrained in my subconscious. Sometimes I still have nightmares about it wandering off to the side and leading me off a cliff…”

She could not help but laugh. “You said I was robbed blind.”

“That you were, I stand by it. Never again will such a paltry horse fetch such a price but you wouldn’t listen to me… you knew your own mind. I admired that – somewhat begrudgingly at the time but the approbation was there just the same. Buried, deep beneath my layers of shit and snark.”

Brienne quietened then, remembering some of their exchanges, the way they had fought and how she had judged. “You know – I wasn’t exactly agreeable with you either. I took a degree of delight in appointing you that horse.”

“I suspected it.” His grin was knowing. “You know they say love and hate are synonymous. That one cannot exist without the other for they contain the same fundamental elements. Intensity, fire, rage. Try as we might there was no denying it. We had passion from the onset Wench…and chemistry in bucketloads.”

“Hmmm…” She pretended to weigh the merit of his assertion. “Well let’s say I concur and we’ll leave it at that.”

“You’re agreeing with me? I do believe that is the third time today we have seen eye to eye. A Yuletide miracle. Or perhaps I have to thank the talents of the last hand I have left.” His timbre had that wicked streak she had come to adore and loathe.

_Mayhaps he is on to something with his comparison of the two emotions…but that would have us align again, which cannot be._

“Had I known you would be this pliable, I may have ceased arguing with you and serviced you sooner….”

_Now he is just goading me…_

She adopted her most unimpressed tone. “And had I known that your usefulness lay in your dexterity rather than your glib mouth, I may have put you to better use sooner. At least you were reasonably quiet whilst you were occupied…”

“My Lady, unfortunately you are mistaken and now I am going to have to ruin our compatible streak by disputing your averment. For if you wish me to be truly silent, you had best try employing my oral skills. In the absence of my right hand they remain my forte and I can assure you that my tongue has abilities which far exceed my vocal athletics.”

_So cocky is he…_

Without warning she leant over, slapping his horse on the rump. The thwack triggering it to whinny and burst into movement.

“Less yammering with that highly commended mouth and more putting that skilled hand upon the reins!” She hollered out after him in amusement, watching as he galloped onwards down the road.

#######

Negotiating the crowds was a trick in itself. The retinues that shadowed a Lord and Lady usually clearing a path for them ahead of time. But their desire for privacy had left them to their own devices.

Brienne pushed through a line forming at a fisherman’s stall, ducking behind a flapping banner as she saw Jaime looking for her. A pang of guilt gnawing at her gut as she observed his confused expression.

_But how else am I supposed to find him a Yuletide gift?_

She had been trying to shake her husband for over half an hour. Whenever she successfully gave him the slip somehow he managed to relocate her. His abilities nothing short of extraordinary amongst the throngs of people.

“What are you looking at?” His honeyed tone had come out of nowhere earlier, interrupting her browsing. Springing her with a carved lion statuette in hand.

“That is cute.” He had nodded towards it. “Is that sandstone? It looks like it. We have many lions at the rock, but none that size. Did you enquire its price?”

She had groaned and placed it back upon the table.

Then later…

“Is that a coin purse?”

She had visibly jolted that time. “Why yes, Jaime it is.”

“Nice leatherwork, pity about the style. I have never been fond of the idea of carrying a purse. It just seems pretentious. A Lannister Always Pays his Debts they say but let it come from a pouch or a promissory note. Far classier.”

She had turned to him in exasperation.

“Oh I’m sorry My Wench – did you want one? I did not mean to put you off….”

Finally she had stumbled across a winning stall.

An assortment of exotic weaponry from Essos, expensive and attractive. The daggers with curved blades and jewel encrusted hilts.

She weighed one in her hand, testing its balance. Enquiring if the gems were natural and the alloy of the hilt.

“There you are!”

This time the disappointment had her bury her face in her hand.

“This marketplace is atrocious Brienne, if you weren’t the tallest woman I know – I never would have found you. I only need to look up and your tow-head will lead me in the right direction.”

She felt his gold hand come to rest on her back. “Why didn’t you call me?! Finally, a stand worth looking at. That dagger is impressive…. Did you check its balance? I should like that; we can share it though if you want.”

Suffice to say, he now wore it in his belt and Brienne was hastily running out of options, time and patience.

Squeezing between a back row of stalls, she looped around, avoiding his immediate radius. Thankful that for once well-wishes who recognised their liege Lord were delaying his progress in tailing her.

Finally free, she darted swiftly from vendor to vendor, assessing their wares and praying that something she found would suit her husband.

She visited a beltmaker – but he had far finer already. The same was true of all leatherworks, so she swiftly abandoned that avenue of thought.

The jewellers were not worth her time – half only stocked for females and the other half looked like imitations and she knew that the food stalls were not the place to find a suitable gift for the man in her life.

Stopping by a table that sold scented soaps and oils, she sniffed the fragrances one by one. Wrinkling her nose and dismissing them as quickly as she gave them consideration.

_They are not my Jaime… I like the way he smells, masculine and heady._

Defeated she plopped down onto a bench, wracking her brain for further inspiration.

In the distance she noticed her husband… he was not even taking heed of the stalls, instead frantically scanning the crowd for her, concern writ over his handsome features.

She waved to him and her frustrations dissolved into a puddle at his visible relief.

“Thank the Seven, I was panicked.” He wore his heart on his sleeve, for once disinterested in appearing flippant. “You are my life Brienne - I cannot lose you.”

He picked up her gloved hand, placing a kiss to the back of it. The rawness of his consternation highlighting the tiny crinkles at the corners of his eyes.

_He loves me…he truly does…_

“Jaime…” Brienne placed her other hand beneath his, sandwiching his palm between hers. “…what would you like for Yuletide? Or out of life in general? You act so cavalier about everything, laughing life off as one big jape… but what is your fondest desire? Everyone has them…. You know all of mine.” She lifted her hand to caress his face. “Will you confide them to me? So I can keep them with my own?”

He nodded sadly, gazing at their joined hands. “I gave up on my dreams a long time ago. In an era when I crossed the line and the Gods decided I was undeserving. Since then my conduct has not grown more meritorious, I simply sunk further into shame. Therefore I let them grow dim, pretended I did not care – it was easier that way.”

“What are they?” She prompted, wanting his trust.

“I want love Wench. To have someone I can give my love to and receive it in return. Not to hide in dark corners and be cast out of bed before the sheets even cool or where the small amounts of affection I am doled out is dangled before me as if on a string, conditional until I meet with demands.” He swallowed. “I want to hold my lover till morn, walk hand in hand into functions, slip casually into conversation that 'I will go consult with my wife.'”

He blinked, scattering the mist which crossed the verdant forest of his eyes. “And I want to hold my children. When they are babes just born and fit into the crook of my arm and when they are young and toddling and fall and scrape their knees. I want to hear them call me Father - not Uncle Jaime. I want to be allowed to love them, instead of distancing and cordoning off my heart, convincing myself it doesn’t hurt, when it positively stings.”

Brienne grit her teeth, holding back tears. Seeing the core of the man behind the layers of complexity and bluster which she now understood.

_He is like me, taking shelter within my own soul._

_But where I have metal plate, he has prickles…all the better to ward off intruders._

“Is there anything else?” She gave his knee a nudge. “You can tell me.”

“I miss Tommen.” He sniffed once, managing through well practised control to keep his pain at bay. “We grew closer after he was crowned. I’ve been with him almost every day, supposedly guarding him but it gave me an opportunity to spend quality time with him. He wants to learn to ride to joust.”

The maiden smiled, as much as she resented Cersei - her distaste for the woman becoming even more pertinent with the current revelations – she would not for a single second blame the children or expect Jaime’s love as a father to diminish just because of his severing from their Mother.

“He sounds like you – I would like to meet him some day.”

“I would love that. Myrcella too – sadly I have never gotten to know her as much. Girls are sequestered and kept to their lessons. I could find little excuse to forge a bond before she was shipped off to Dorne.”

She watched his bravado reassemble, buckling in place like plate armour, shields overlapping once more around his tattered spirit.

“Well woman…there you have it. Completely unobtainable desires that you cannot find in a marketplace. Don’t you wish I had said a new quill and inkpot? I quite wore mine out writing you that letter on day twelve.”

“No…” She shook her head. “…Now I have to disagree and spoil our streak again. I like seeing you, hearing you - without the pretence.”

Brienne kissed his cheek, unbothered by the myriad of passers-by.

“And I assure you my husband –“ She thought of his list, remembering his first ask and knowing the inner beatings of her own heart. “-not all of them are unobtainable.”


	12. 2 Days Before Yuletide...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Begins Jaime's POV  
> Then Brienne's POV thereafter...
> 
> Cover Art by Ro_Nordmann  
> [](https://www.flickr.com/photos/185980079@N02/49211612893/in/dateposted-public/)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end of this chapter is NSFW ;)

Jaime sighed. Heavy of chest and weighted down. The spectres of his sin and former life circling around him in thick clouds. The proverbial smog smothering him, even on the clear day.

_To go forwards, I must walk through it. To make right, I must face wrongs._

_To win her, I must do my atonement. She is worth it…_

He exhaled again, long lethargic gusts billowing hot breath into the winter air. Puffing in rolling swirls of mist, existing only to vaporise again.

“Jaime…” Brienne reached for his hand. “…what’s wrong? It is two days before Yuletide, surely there is no need for this melancholy.”

She looked at him in her guileless way, blue eyes full of compassion and sincerity.

His wife was naïve of why they waited outside the walls of Casterly Rock, shivering in their boots, ankle deep in snow. But she had come when he asked and that in itself was monumental to him. 

He forced himself to smile. “Today is going to be a hard day, my love.”

“Why?”

“You shall see. Soon you will know all and unfortunately a couple of my transgressions will be brought to the surface.”

“There are more? What do I not know of?”

He cast his gaze to the icy ground. “Words. Damaging but effective. I do what I have to do Brienne, whether it be true or false. If I feel it is the best course of action, then my tongue will speak vile atrocities. If I think a lie will set things to rights – then it will pour forth from my mouth.”

“Jaime – what lie did you tell?”

She furrowed her brow at him when the crunching of approaching footsteps drew her attention, making her rotate on the spot.

Armoured Lannister guards marched forth, escorting between them a scowling nobleman. Smartly dressed and well fed, his auburn hair flopped around his face, making his red beard even more prominent. He glared at the lion Lord; his eyes filled with hatred and Brienne’s head quickly turned between the two men as she placed his face.

“Good day Edmure.” Jaime nodded cordially. “I trust you and your small family have been well provided for with Yuletide approaching.”

“Don’t speak to me of my family Kingslayer.” The younger Lord spat contemptuously. “Your money can supply us with all the trimmings that you think may assuage your blackened soul – but it will not remove your threat or the fact that we are prisoner.”

“Jaime?” The Wench looked at him questioningly.

“Lady Brienne, I trust you have previously met Lord Edmure Tully when you were in Lady Catelyn’s service. Edmure, his wife and young son are permanent guests here at the Rock for the sake of political leverage.”

“Hostage.” His warrior woman found the word he was omitting, her teeth gritted ever so slightly. “When were you going to tell me?”

“When the time was ripe…. Which happens to be today.”

Her ears were turning red and Jaime knew it was not from cold.

“He names you wife.” The trout addressed Brienne directly. “Are you a traitor to my sister or do you find yourself a captive of this oathbreaker as well? Though if so, I would like to know what leverage he wielded over your head to ensure your compliance.”

“My Lord,” Brienne bowed courteously. “I apologise that I did not know of your residency at Casterly Rock – the scale of the fortress is larger than I ever could have guessed to have concealed your presence all this time – but know that to this day I hold Lady Catelyn in the highest esteem. Regardless of my change in House.”

“Horseshit.” Edmure’s temper was as fiery as his facial hair. “Anyone who swears continued fealty to a Tully could never bed down with the likes of the Kingslayer. He is man without honour, a smirch upon the earth, the lowest of men….”

“Do I not see that you are kept in every luxury afforded your station?” Jaime huffed.

_If we remain in this vein, he will make me lose Brienne…_

“Are you not treated with courtesy and respect? We are at war Lord Tully, our families in conflict. Yet I have seen you and yours safely delivered into my care. Maintained securely at the Rock to live out a comfortable life.”

“Comfort do you call it? Yes, I rest easy upon my pillow each night. Wondering when will come the day you make good on your threat and deliver my son over the walls in a catapult.”

_He just fucking had too, I knew he would…_

All the colour drained from Brienne’s face. She was both horrified and livid.

Jaime spoke quickly, trying to rectify, needing to hold private audience with his wife before there could be no salvation. “Our terms were settled Edmure. Your son is in no danger from me.” The lion stepped away hurriedly beckoning for the warrior maid to come, rounding a corner as she stomped after him like a bull about to charge.

“Lannister – you had better explain yourself.” She growled. “Though I can think of piteous few explanations which would make this right.”

“Brienne I never meant it.” His tone was filled with imploring, a desperate plea. “You have to believe me. Remember what I said to you before – I did what I thought was necessary. It was a lie. A heinous, brutal but empty threat…”

“Why would you say such a thing?! Why would you keep Lord Edmure prisoner here?!” Her voice was raised. “He is a Tully! You swore a vow!”

“That’s exactly what all of this is about…. Keeping my oaths. Having you know the truth with full disclosure.” He raked his hand through his blonde hair, ice crystals clinging to the strands, deposited there by his quaking fingers. “They were going to hang him; Riverrun was under siege. The castle was to be stormed but _that_ would break my vow. I swore I would never take up arms against Stark nor Tully again and I kept that promise. I threatened Edmure so there would be no bloodshed. I negotiated a peaceful surrender.”

“By blackmailing him with an infant!” The next phrase was a deadly whisper. “You are a parent. You should know better. I shudder to think how you could even dream up such an abhorrent concept.”

“I just said what my Father would have.” Jaime heard the hoarseness of his timbre, the agony within. Choking him as he watched the woman he loved lose her faith in him. “The more I sounded like him the more I would instil the fear of the Gods. The less loss of life. So what if it resulted in one more blemish upon my honour? People are convinced that I am irredeemable. You do not even believe me now.” His eyes began to burn and he stared through the bricks of the wall which shielded them from view. The red rims beneath his sockets a sign of weakness he despised.

But then a tall blonde woman blocked his view, standing in front of him with her studious calm countenance.

“I know you.” She breathed. “I have seen you with smallfolk children, heard you talk about your own. You would not have acted upon it.”

She tapped her leathered thigh, making Oathkeeper rattle in its scabbard. “Your actions were misguided but they were borne from a desire to do good and spare the innocents. Just like when you slew the Mad King.”

Brienne tucked a stray curl behind his ear, her soothing affect washing over him like a healing salve.

Jaime couldn’t help but pull her into his arms.

“Thank you.” He flattened her tightly against him, holding on for dear life. “I wouldn’t have done it, truly I wouldn’t. I’m many things but I’m not that callous. I’m sorry Brienne but I couldn’t tell you sooner. I needed as much time as possible to make everything fall into place.”

She stepped back, scrutinising his face. Trying to make head nor tail of the whole fiasco. 

“Husband what was this meeting in aid of? Why dredge all this up now? Was it just to purge your soul and clear the air between us? Or is there more?”

“There’s more - but not of negativity.” He straightened his cloak, holding his frost-bitten glove beneath his eye to reduce the redness. “Now comes the time where I endeavour to make amends.” He extended his arm for her to take, wanting to be presented as a united front. “Will you walk with me or are you too ashamed to call me husband?”

“I am your partner in all things Jaime.” She reassured. “I will be by your side because I trust in your honour.”

“Good thing Wench.” He allowed himself to grin, excitement finally replacing his malaise. “Because you won’t want to miss this.”

###########

Shifting her weight from foot to foot, Brienne squinted at the group of riders in the distance. The party growing larger and more distinct as they edger closer. The maiden could make out two distinctly different coloured standards. Red and Gold – which she presumed were Lannister men - and what looked like a Sky Blue. 

Flanked by her husband on one side and Lord Edmure on the other, she stole a glance at her lion Lord, noting how drastically his mood had shifted from apprehensive to hopeful.

_What is he up to?_

An outrider burst forth, galloping ahead of the main group to reach them ahead of the company and Jaime strode forward to greet him as the Knight dismounted. Brienne placed him as Ser Marbrand who had accompanied them part of the way to the West.

“Addam.” Jaime beamed broadly clapping his comrade on the back. “You did well.”

“Why are Lannister tasks never simple?” He answered jokingly. “I had best be invited to the Yuletide banquet.”

“I have already had your name placed upon the list.”

The two men stood back in line as her husband enquired. “How was the trip?”

“Long. We rode hard to make good time in the outset. With the larger group it was slower upon our return.”

“You cut it fine. I was worried you wouldn’t make it.”

“All involved were quite determined to see this come to fruition.” Addam shrugged. “Perhaps the Gods were on your side.”

Jaime chuckled. “That would certainly be a welcome change…”

A soft whinny resounded, heralding the arrival of their visitors and she pivoted back towards them in an attempt to discern their identities. Now noting the Falcons emblazoned upon their shields and small wings decorating their armour.

_From the Vale…_

A man with salt and pepper hair and a pointed beard appeared grim as he reined up his horse. Riding alongside him was a young woman, with dark flowing locks, a fair face and enormous deep blue eyes. In the saddle in front of her was a small boy, sickly thin and pale of complexion. 

“Welcome Lord Baelish.” Jaime wore his knife-edged grin. “So glad you agreed to join us for Yuletide.”

“Lord Lannister…it seemed an offer I could not refuse. How kind of you to send an escort along with your invitation.”

“But of course… it was no inconvenience. Why in this unpredictable weather ravens and messages tend to go astray. I wouldn’t risk that on such an auspicious occasion.” His cat eyes gleamed with triumph. “Family is of the utmost importance during the festive season.”

_Why would Jaime ask Lord Baelish here? He has always implied that the man was deadly…_

As if on cue Edmure sprang to life, stumbling forward with his mouth flapping like the fish upon his sigil.

“Niece? Is that really you?” He was visibly shocked. “I thought it another of the Kingslayer’s lies when he sent word of your coming but – you have your Mother’s eyes. And is that my nephew?”

“It is I uncle.” The girl smiled politely, taking the offered hand of one of the Knights as she dismounted. They lifted the boy down after her. “And Sweetrobin has accompanied me.” She walked towards Lord Tully, emitting a girlish giggle when he pulled her into a hug. “Do not let the hair fool you. It was a necessary guise.”

As Edmure stooped to greet the boy they named Sweetrobin, the young woman turned towards where Brienne stood next to her husband.

“Yuletide Greetings good sister.” Jaime was the epitome of chivalry, exuding kindness and generosity. “I assure you that for the duration of your stay, my home is your home. You and your company will be welcomed under guest right and will want for nothing whilst under my protection.”

“I thank you Lord Lannister – for both your hospitality and for uniting me with my uncle for the holidays.” She curtseyed gracefully before them.

“I would also like to introduce my wife…” Jaime gestured towards her, practically radiating with happiness. “This is Lady Brienne Lannister, my soulmate and love.”

_That may just be the dearest way I have ever been presented…_

She quietly glowed as he placed a kiss upon her forehead. “Brienne, may I introduce you to someone I know you have been very eager to meet –“

His voice carried a musical quality, the tonality as if singing a sacred song. “- this is Lady Sansa.”

#######

“How Jaime?” Finally, alone with her husband in the drawing room, Brienne was a bundle of animated energy. “How did you do it?”

She pecked his lips, framing his handsome face with her hands. “She’s here… Sansa is returned to her family. You kept your vow.”

“Do you wish to know the magic behind the scenes.” He wiggled his eyebrows, perching upon the arm of the lounge and seizing his cup of cocoa.

Brienne lowered herself into the cushioned seat opposite him, lacing her fingers upon her knees and leaning forward expectantly. “Everything you care to tell.”

“Do you remember when we were in the Riverlands headed towards the Brotherhood and I asked how you came across Lady Sansa?”

“Yes. I was struggling to keep my own stretched truths straight. I told you I rationalised she would seek family and it was a decision between Riverrun or the Eyrie.”

“Well I thought about that afterwards – and as I knew that Riverrun was under our occupation and Edmure’s location was at the Rock, I could eliminate that option. Coupling this with rumours of Lysa Arryn’s untimely passing and Petyr Baelish’s rise to power in the Vale – I thought it was worth investigating. So I formulated a plan and sent Addam straight on from Riverrun with a solid retinue under a Peace Banner to assess the situation. As suspected, there he found Alayne Stone – allegedly Petyr Baelish’s natural daughter but we knew better.”

He set the beverage aside as he grew more ebullient in his retelling. “Using this information to our advantage I extended the invitation for Lord Robert and _Lady Sansa_ to join us for Yuletide with their uncle. Once Lord Baelish became aware that I knew of her true identity the only strategic move he had was to comply. His hold over the Eyrie is tenuous at best, brokered by the sovereignty themselves but reliant upon the council remaining oblivious to his true machinations. If he violated guest right and slew my messengers under a Peace Banner it would be an act of war and turn the West, Crown and Vale against him. It would also send a message to me – that I was right in knowing he harboured a fugitive and I could turn them both in to my Queenly sister. So instead I swore to keep their secret, _if_ they departed for Casterly Rock in all due haste. Lord Baelish knows that their very presence here implicates me and forces me to remain silent, so it was in his best interests to comply, making me complicit in his treason. The beauty of dealing with Littlefinger is I never even have to say the threats. He second guesses them and acts in accordance before terse words need to be exchanged.”

“You are your own version of remarkable Jaime.” She crossed to him, resting lightly against his knee as she draped an arm around his shoulders.

If she were a slight maiden, she would sit fully in his lap, but knowing her cumbersome size, she kept her weight centred upon her feet, her long legs bracing against the floor. “Your methods can be questionable at times but you find a way to get things done.” She shone with admiration for him. “A model Knight, true to your word.”

Brienne could not help but kiss him again, this time dwelling upon his lips, letting the movement of her mouth against his express the magnitude of her approval.

Seeking with her tongue, she tried to deepen their kiss, stunned when Jaime stilled her with a firm hand upon her shoulder. “There’s more…”

She blinked slowly, processing his inference through a daze of lust. “How can there be?”

“For there are two Stark girls – not one.”

Straightening her spine, she snapped back to a state of alertness. “What more do you know?”

“Enough.” Her lion smirked. “Arya Stark lives. Her location is unknown but turns out she is resourceful.”

“Jaime!” Even the knowledge that Lady Catelyn’s second daughter was alive and well was more than she could have hoped for, enough to make her burst at the seams. “How did you come by this information?”

“The Brotherhood, namely the smith boy who resembles Robert Baratheon. Gendry I believe his name is.” Her husband affectionately fondled her knee through her leather breeches, the movements dulled by the hide but none the less enticing. “My most loyal men managed to persuade him that we meant the girl no harm. Mentioning of you helped in that matter – he remembered your valiant defence of the children at the inn. We told him that the information would be passed only to her sister and those that sought to aid her. Turns out he is both stubborn and quite protective of the girl. He was very reluctant to speak but decided that as Arya’s current whereabouts are a mystery, even armed with the knowledge, we could do her no direct harm.” His delivery was congratulatory, giving her as much of the credit as himself. Unassuming when he concluded apologetically. “Best I can do for now Wench but it’s a start.” The lion shrugged. “Today’s gift – two Stark girls or as close to it as I can produce.” 

Her blue eyes twinkled in amazement and awe. Every phrasing of thanks she could formulate sounding pathetic and trite when compared against the enormity of his achievement.

She cleared her throat, propelling her voice around the blockade of emotion.

“When you do things like this My Lord… you make it very difficult to find reasons not to love you.”

Jaime was almost shy in his response, humbly mumbling to their chests rather than her face.

“May I suggest then that you don’t find them? I would like that very much.”

Brienne laughed, the gurgling sound bubbling up and out of her unbidden. But it was not scornful or derisive but rather amusement at his cluelessness.

_He can orchestrate a parley with a tactical master, reuniting a family from half a Kingdom away, but he cannot see how completely he is adored by the woman in front of him…._

She tugged on his earlobes affectionately, cupping his angular jaw on either side and tilting his face up to meet her own. Bestowing upon him the impassioned kiss he had interrupted before. Infusing it with her appreciation. Licking into his mouth and making full use of her oversized lips.

“Mmmm, I should bring together estranged families everyday if this is what I get.” He hummed cheerfully, covering her mouth with his own as even their kisses had the element of duelling, a playful tug-of-war for dominance. She battled back fiercely for control, noses colliding as she sucked at his top lip, running her hands down the bristles of his beard as he pulled away and nipped beneath her chin. The same stubble both tickling and irritating her sensitive skin in a way that somehow reached all the way to her nethers.

“Alright – truce.” Jaime’s tone was gravel as he kissed the column of her throat. “I am expected in my solar, like it or not I must iron out the wrinkles in this uneasy alliance with Littlefinger. Now as for you Wench…” He cheekily gave her upper thigh a squeeze, his palm cupping her buttocks and making her squeak in a way that evoked his most wolfish smirk. “… why don’t you go get to know the Lady you searched Westeros for? My meeting will be lengthy I imagine and thereafter I intend a long soak in the tub because that man makes my skin crawl.”

He shuffled her from his lap as he stood, straightening his tunic to cover the bulge which strained against his laces. Brienne bit her lip as she unsuccessfully tried to pretend she hadn’t noticed.

_That is for me…_

Jaime exhaled as he delivered a peck to her brow. “After Yuletide... we will resume our efforts. Ask around, ride out – seek the Lady Arya. I will not keep you from fulfilling your oaths Brienne. We are in this together and I too will be true to my word....”

“No.” The warrior maiden shook her head gently. “You have gone above and beyond to uphold your vow. We have both done the best we can. Sansa’s whereabouts are known at last and hereafter we can ensure she remains out of harm. But I get the feeling the Lady Arya does not wish to be found – and perhaps she is safer that way.” She smoothed the fabric of his sleeve, brushing the ripples from his shoulder downward. “After Yuletide there is another child who needs out assistance and that is where I intend to place my focus.”

“Who?” Her husband was mystified, completely baffled by her turn in thought.

“Your son.” Brienne looked into his eyes, letting him see her determination and sincerity. “Tommen.”

######

Brienne snuck silently into the tiled bath chamber, shouldering open the door and balancing the items she clutched in one arm to softly click it shut. 

The room was warm, furnaces ablaze at both ends of the small room in large barrel shaped steel burners, hot logs crackling within. The air itself an almost dizzying screen of steam which swirled around her as she walked in its midst. Quietly placing down the towel and bundle. 

  
In the end she had returned and made two purchases from the aromatic market stall, remembering how much Jaime had liked the festive smell of her hair. For him she selected more manly scents, predominantly spices. The homey fragrance of orange, cinnamon, ginger and nutmeg combined with some secret ingredients the merchant would not disclose, producing the pungent oil they dubbed ‘Mulled Wine’.

In addition, they had given her a bag of dried leaves and petals which could be added to bathwater. 

Removing her tunic so she would not overheat, Brienne threw it roughly over the bench, cringing as the leather made a snapping noise against the marble surface.  
“Who is there?” Jaime's voice called through the haze but she chose not to answer.

  
Not wishing to wet her blouse more than was inevitable, she meticulously rolled back her azure sleeves before picking up the supplies and beginning her wander through the steam.

The white curtain of cloud was so opaque it felt more like swimming as she inched across the mosaiced floor. Hypnotised as the incorporeal veil parted to reveal her Lion Lord.

Jaime lounged in an oval tub of polished wood; the bath quite sizeable by ordinary standards but nowhere near the vastness of the inbuilt pools they had experienced in Harrenhal.

He could sit comfortably, stretching out his legs but would have to cramp himself in if he wanted to fully submerge. The positioning of the bath meant he faced away from her and she could already see the divine muscles of his naked back, glistening with droplets of water as dampness clung to his mane, transforming it to a darker shade of burnished gold.

“I have called for no attendants.” He peered over his shoulder but she ducked out of sight, swallowed by the steamy atmosphere and concealed from view. “And I would prefer not to be disturbed.”

Spying a small wooden stool, Brienne purposefully dragged it in her direction, the scraping noise making Jaime sit up straighter before she hoisted it from the floor, carrying it one-armed over to the side of the tub.

“Pia.” The Lord was stern. “I was quite adamant when I dismissed you as my washerwoman. You work for Lady Brienne alone. She is my wife and I will not stand for disrespectful conduct. There is only one woman to whom I belong…”

“Your wife is glad to hear that.”

Her husband’s posture visibly relaxed when he heard her voice, chuckling with relief. “Well executed Wench. I was beginning to think I may have to shout ‘Sapphires’ and hope servants would come running in defence of my chastity.”

“They may have to yet.” Now standing in front of him she let him see her ardour, the way her eyes devoured the sight of his naked chest. “Because for tonight I am your washerwoman and I come bearing gifts.” She held out the pouch of bath additives between her fingers, making a point of slowly untying the drawstring bag and sprinkling them into the water.

Jaime crinkled his brow as he watched the leaves and petals descend, absorbing the moisture and unfurling as they floated upon the surface. “Am I in a bath or a garden?”

“Both.”

She accepted none of his nonsense as she squatted upon the stool. Folding her legs to draw her as close to the timber as she could. “Now, where will I find the soap My Lord?”

“Somewhere in the bottom of the tub, I am already clean, I was just…” He picked up one of the petals between two fingers, giving it a dubious sniff. “…well marinating now. My garnish has arrived.”

“Shush.” She leant over the end of the tub, fishing around his legs and feet with her long arms, trying to locate the soap. Her provocative scene interrupted by her annoyance at the missing cake of lye.

“Found it yet Wench?”

A single line emerged above her nose. “No - whyever did you drop it in the first place?”

He raised his stump above the water, pointing to it. “One hand, slippery substance. It is quite difficult to keep track of.”

Groaning she gave up, extracting her dripping forearm from the warm water. “Fine. We skip that part.”

“What part?” Jaime’s head followed her as she returned to the stool, retrieving the bottle of lotion from the floor.

“The part where I bathe you.”

He pouted. “Must we skip that part? It sounded like fun. Certainly moreso than when my bathwater became soup.”

She laughed piteously, half in amusement and the other half in exasperation. Her husband was so damn infuriating.

_Lovable, irksome, superb and…._

Brienne drank in the view of him once more, his eyes like two emerald spheres, sanguine and incandescent, bouncing their joy soundlessly along with her. Knowing she was likely to take offence and misconstrue if he allowed his chortle to be heard.

_He is always thinking of me._

Rivulets of moisture ran from the locks which tumbled past his neck and plastered to his collarbone. The streams coursing their way along his sternum, some roguish offshoots breaking away and slowing upon the mounding of his chest, winding their way past his nipple before careening in a downward slope. Causing her to lick her lip as though she could catch the beads upon her tongue. 

_He truly is a God…_

“Brienne?”

Uncorking the bottle, she poured a liberal amount of the oil into his bath, noting how it didn’t mix and galvanised by the idea that this accommodated her plans.

Filling her palm with the vinous scent she rubbed her hands together, a slick coating of the slippery substance shining upon her skin as she kicked the stool around to better position it behind him at the head of the bath.

“What is that?” Jaime enquired sniffing.

_Like a scent hound on the prowl when it comes to his liquor…_

“I bought it for you, here – smell.” She kept her octave low as she brought her hand to his nose, allowing him to take deep whiffs of the potent elixir. “It’s called Mulled Wine… do you like it?”

“Yes, although it seems good enough to drink.”

He kept turning his head, trying to see her and she nudged him to face frontwards with her cheek.

“Relax.” Brienne instructed; her mellifluous contralto delivered straight from her lips to his ear.

Winding her left arm over his shoulder, her right slunk beneath his underarm. Placing both hands splayed upon his chest as she began to nibble at his jaw. Conveying her newfound confidence and sensuality through the movements of her fingers and mouth, devoting her attentions to the masterpiece that was her husband.

She relished his little groans and sighs, taking heed of every tremor in his body. Repeating motions which she learned he liked and thrilling at his responsiveness. The way his physique unwound under her touches, as she prowled further, extending her reach, her right hand tracing the defined divisions of his abdomen. Dipping beneath the water to count the muscles as she increased the ferocity of her kisses, teeth grazing his neck, biting at his earlobe.

“You know I’m proud that you’re beneath my hands.” She was breathy but eloquent, pronouncing each word clearly into the hot chamber. Wanting him to hear her as well as feel. “Proud that I get to touch you, kiss you, call you my husband…”

He was raspy when he answered her, half gone into a sensory realm. Delivered there by the rubbing of her palms. “There aren’t many who would agree with that – they would argue that I lower you.”

“What do they know of it?” She added a slight growl so he could hear her ferity. “They certainly do not know my Jaime. They may think they are knowledgeable of the Kingslayer – but they haven’t the faintest clue.” Scooping up water in her left hand she raised it just above his flesh. “Let their opinions wash over you as easily as this…” She dribbled it down the centre of his chest, letting it spill from between her fingers. “Because I know you…what a good, decent, honourable man you are. And I consider myself privileged that you are mine.”

Plunging her right hand lower into the bath, she followed the line of his body, finding that which she sought as she closed her fingers around his engorged manhood. Stroking him rhythmically beneath the rippling water.

“Sweetling you don’t have to…” Jaime’s timbre was strangled, stimulation thieving his control.

“Shhhh.” Brienne continued to massage, adjusting her hold as she practised. “A seasoned lover taught me that you can derive pleasure from seeing to the one you…”

Keeping him hanging on her every word she trailed off, kissing behind his ear. “I can already feel the satisfaction of my partner, the way you are throbbing against my skin. Let me do this for you.”

There were no more objections, just heavy breathing and guttural moans.

The oil making her hand slide freely over his length, her fingers enthusiastically discovering the firmness and ridges for the first time. Her other palm gliding up his torso, circular motions grazing his nipples as she outlined every chiselled plane of the glorious man completely at her mercy.

“Do you like the grip of my sword hand my husband?” She noted how he shivered in delectation when she talked. “Is it correct? Firm enough? Or looser?”

“Brienne…” It was the only eligible utterance he formed in response, throwing his head back against her shoulder, rapid exhales coursing from between his lips.

_My name…_

_My name is falling from his lips - like **that**. _

_Not Wench. Or My lady. Just my name._

_This is me. He is turned on by me…_

Within her grasp he somehow grew more rigid, his entire body coiling like a tightly wound spring. The water splashing against the timber panels as he pushed into her touches and she smiled to herself as she showered fevered kisses down his neck and across his broad shoulder.

She almost left marks with her teeth when he shuddered. Convulsing as he was rocked with a spasm of ecstasy.

And just as he described she sailed along with him. Like a vessel pitching upon the waves of the tumultuous bath. Along for the ride, carried upon his current. Walls of water crashing over the edges, spilling and pooling across the tiles, as the lion in the tub roared then stilled, turning his head to tenderly kiss his wife’s lips.


	13. 1 Day Before Yuletide/Yuletide Eve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First half Brienne's POV  
> Second half Jaime's POV
> 
> Cover Art by Ro_Nordmann  
> [](https://www.flickr.com/photos/185980079@N02/49211612893/in/dateposted-public/)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone!  
> Our Journey has taken us here to Christmas Eve! So exciting!  
> I am posting today's chapter a little early for obvious reasons! LOL  
> There will be a concluding chapter tomorrow as well.  
> I hope everyone has a lovely holiday! And I include Jaime and Brienne in that....oh yes on that note, the following chapter is NSFW. :D  
> Merry Christmas to all & to ALL a good night! ;)

“Seven save us my beloved, we are about to be overrun by lions and stoats.” Jaime drained his wine cup, tipping his head back dramatically to extract every last drop, even though it was only early evening. He grinned at his wife, crossing to the pitcher and refilling the goblet, holding it out to her.

“Thank you but no, you know I only imbibe at formal functions.”

“Sweetling, your restraint is commendable.” He placed the chalice down, caressing her gnarled cheek with his index finger. “But have you ever stopped to think that there is a good reason all the Lannisters drink? It is the only way we can survive each other.”

She grimaced, watching out the window as figures began to pour from the luxurious carriages below. Staff tripping over themselves to greet and accommodate the honoured guests. Boisterous voices carrying up to them even through the panes of glass. Brienne tried to discern the individual words but alas they were too muffled.

_My family has always been small…_

Upon Tarth her immediate kin consisted of just two people – her Father and herself. The prospect of having an extended family was quite daunting for a reserved character such as she.

“Jaime – what if they don’t approve of me?”

Her Lord wrapped his arms around her middle, canoodling up to her in an excessively sloppy display of affection. The spirit of the season and the relaxant of the wine making him especially tactile.

_He has been like this all day…_

“Do not worry my Wench, we can all be thankful that Yuletide in the Capital is a mandatory formal affair for the monarchy. Keeping Cersei, far, far away. And as for the rest? Well over half of us do not approve of each other. Wives mislike husbands, Fathers are disappointed in sons, it is a rite of passage…. however as it is Yuletide, they will at least be trying to exhibit their best behaviour.” She giggled as his lips left damp smooches along her jaw. “Besides, I love you. Incurably and unreservedly smitten. If they are disrespectful to my maiden, I will toss them out into the snow.”

She blushed profusely at his sentiment.

_Though I feel less ‘maidenly’ with every passing day…_

“Well, mayhaps slow down on the Dornish Red.” Wiping the wetness away with her sleeve, she added. “I need you to support me. You know I get tongue tied.”

“Anything for you, therefore sobriety it is.” He pursed his full lips. “This is going to be very interesting though – a dry occasion spent with my family.”

######

Willing herself not to fidget, Brienne took deep breaths, more daunted by her present circumstances than when she was facing down the vilest of men.

_At least then I had a weapon in my hand…_

Milling about their large drawing room was an assortment of Lannisters and Freys. She tried to hide her discontent at the presence of so many bearing the standard of the Twins, still unable to shake the memory of the butchery Lady Catelyn has suffered.

_But they are my husband’s relations and therefore by extension mine._

“This is my cousin, Ser Daven Lannister.” Jaime introduced a bushy man, spouting more facial hair and side-whiskers than any individual she had ever met.

“Ser Daven.” She repeated the name, committing it to memory. _Daven, the Lannister who is trying to resemble an actual lion._

“His mother – Lady Myranda Lefford and his two sisters, Cerenna and Myrielle.”

 _I am never going to remember them all._ She quietly panicked as she greeted them one by one.

As they retreated, her husband slanted subtly towards her. “My love - coming over to us is the family of my late uncle Kevan. They are still in mourning and Martyn’s twin was slain whilst captive at Riverrun.” Jaime’s tone was hushed as he prompted her considerately. “There are sound reasons why I have kept the second festive gathering at the other end of the Rock a **very** separate secret from our own celebration.”

“I understand, thank you for warning me.”

“Lady Dorna Swyft.” Jaime took the slender woman’s hand comfortingly. “I am so sorry you have suffered such a loss so close to Yuletide. Our thoughts are with you, Martyn and Janei of course.”

As her husband glanced behind the newcomers, she watched him brighten slightly. She recognised when insincerity leeched into his tone. “Will cousin Lancel not be joining us?”

“No, I extend to you apologies on his behalf my Lord.” Lady Swyft was softly spoken, evidently not as attune to Jaime’s true feelings on the subject. “He continues in the service of the Warrior’s Sons.”

“A worthy calling, of that I am sure.”

As soon as they moved on, he muttered. “Lancel had an attack of pious conscience after helping to poison Robert and then falling into Cersei’s cunt.”

“Right.” Brienne blinked several times, struggling to remain neutral when faced with Jaime’s blatancy. “Thank you for filling in the gaps with such detail.”

“You’re welcome.” He gave her hand a squeeze, completely missing her implied irony. “Lancel’s absence will make it easier with Cleos’ widow anyhow. There was some contestation about them bequeathing her ancestral seat to him instead of…. oh fuck. Ami came.”

“Who?”

“Gatehouse Ami – Lady Amerei – don’t call her by that other name I just said...or at least not to her face. She was married to Lancel but it was placed aside due to being unconsummated. Though she consummated it with everyone but Lancel, that’s how she earnt her nickname. She shamelessly tried to seduce me last I saw her. Though hopefully my Aunt will keep her occupied. She is looking to marry her off to Martyn.”

“Jaime –“ Her eyes were saucers and she was sure perspiration had begun to dot her brow. “-I want an annulment. I’m returning to Tarth. This is too much.” Her mouth quirked up at the corners, letting him know she was teasing and her husband loudly laughed.

“Can I come too Wench?”

“There’s my nephew!”

Brienne watched Jaime smile at the older buxom blonde before him, his countenance a mixture of affection and resignation. The warrior maiden had to suppress a guffaw when the woman tugged upon his earlobe and affectionately pinched his cheek. “And looking much better I might add. Lannister Crimson has always suited you far more than that washed out Kingsguard white. Your Father would agree with me.”

“Thank you Aunt Genna.”

This time he urged Brienne forward with enthusiasm, his palm outstretched against the small of her back as he proudly proclaimed. “This is my wife Brienne – I have been excited for you to meet her. My love, here you find my Aunt Genna. Her husband and sons will be around here somewhere but I’m glad I get to introduce you both one on one.”

The new Lady Lannister smiled shyly, bowing in place of a curtsey as she greeted the older woman.

_Jaime has mentioned his Aunt, she has been a Mother figure to him. Her impression of me therefore matters more than any other._

“It is a pleasure to meet you.” 

“And you… finally a wife for our Jaime.” She tugged on her nephew’s ear lobe again and the lion batted her away with a playful paw. A couple paces to their left a thin, balding Frey called to him and he threw her an apologetic grimace, rubbing her back and moving to answer the summons.

“Come now –“ Genna grinned. “-Let me look at you.”

Steeling herself against the scrutiny Brienne told herself not to wince, detesting the appraisal whilst earnestly wanting to win approval.

“Breeches.” She sniffed, giving her new good-niece’s attire some consideration. “A bold choice.”

“Thank you, My Lady.”

The matriarchal Lannister continued to sweep her gaze upwards, her hand flying to her face in dismay when she noticed the scarring on her cheek.

“Oh! Your face. So the rumours were true.”

Brienne’s expression crumpled but the blonde lioness seized her kindly by the arm. “But don’t fret – people are always going to talk. It’s a sign of jealousy. For we are one of the most powerful families in Westeros and they envy us. They envy you for marrying into our midst. They talk about me as well – the ample Lannister they call me. They say I was a beauty once, that I must have ‘let myself go,’ that they pity my poor husband.” She scoffed. “As if Emmon is a prize stallion. Him! I’d rather he keep off me. But four sons I bore that husband of mine. As long as you are fertile that is the important part. Not the looks – that the Lannister’s will contribute. The continuation of our House is the priority, our family seems to sadly be getting smaller of late.”

Genna resumed her assessment and surprisingly she felt herself settling.

_She does not mean me harm. She is shrewd and dogmatic but she does not appear to sharpen her claws as frequently as the others…_

“Look at your height!” The sudden exclaim snapped Brienne’s focus back upon the new relative in front of her. _S_ _he is uproarious though…_

“Speaking of sons – yours will be strong. Jaime has himself a tower of a woman with a sword at her hip… yes, I can see my nephew liking that. He always loved to court danger. I often wondered what match would ever tame our golden lion, what maid could ensnare his heart. Never in my wildest imaginings could I have contrived it would be a woman like you but now I know his choice is right. Jaime will be very happy with you.”

“I thank you again.” The maiden was demure but sincere. “You have no idea the amount of joy it brings me to hear that. I know your opinion matters a lot to him and…”

She turned her head, watching her husband talk amiably with his family, pausing mid-sentence to give her a dazzling smile. The affection she carried for him and ways she cared proliferating within her chest with each passing moment.

“Lady Brienne…” Aunt Genna addressed her in a softer tone, calling her attention back. “… it is the understanding of the majority that you and my nephew were arranged. It is less known that he wrote to me in secret, telling me that his bride was his decision and that the match was one of love. I doubted it at first – naturally - your union with House Lannister was advantageous to the Crown and what woman wouldn’t wish to wed their way into our family. But now I’m watching you, the way you look at him and….”

“I love him.” Brienne spoke more loudly than she intended. Her inherently deep voice bouncing back at her from the rooftops. The conversation beside them ceased and she chanced a furtive chance in Jaime’s direction to see if he had heard.

His green eyes shone with hope and wetness, clinging to her last phrase. Searching hers for regret or retraction. Waiting for her to say she misspoke.

_He was listening this whole time, keeping an ear out, making sure I was not ill at ease… he is truly my partner. My protector. My man…_

“I’m sorry Lady Genna, I did not mean to interrupt.” She spoke to his Aunt, but it was her husband’s stare she locked with her own. “I just - had to say it, to have it be known. I love him. I have loved your nephew for an exceedingly long time. My heart is his – not for his gold, or his power, or his prestige. But for him.” Her bottom lip quivered as his emeralds gleamed, swimming with an inexpressible euphoria at her revelation. “Jaime is the love of my life.” 

#######

Brienne slowly sipped from her chalice of wine, leaning against a sidetable and watching the festivities. Allowing the perfect synthesis of flavours to soak into her tongue. As promised, Jaime had visited the cellar, choosing for her a bottle which he thought would cater to her palate and she had relented her usually strict attitude to liquor, accepting a tipple in appreciation of his efforts. 

She had spent the evening since nursing that same cupful, taking tiny nips and marvelling at how well her husband knew her preferences. How he was able to innately select what would suit.

_Such has been his way for the last twelve days, each gift thoughtful and tailored to my personality. Every gesture intimate and loving._

_He knows me so well, he is generous in all things._

She bit her lip, letting her more wanton illusions materialise in the recesses of her mind unchecked. Bringing a tint to the apples of her cheeks, spreading down to the collar of her dress.

_I feverishly expect he will be as intuitive in all areas of our marriage…_

The grand drawing room was teeming with life, relatives cramming themselves upon lounges and chairs as they wassailed and exchanged stories from their travels. Coming together for this rare glimpse of peace before the world became havoc once more.

The maiden quietly beamed, reliving her moments of serenity earlier today. Tuning out the rowdy conversations to see herself and Jaime taking the time to decorate the hall in preparation.

“I want to do it ourselves – it is our first Yuletide Eve. Would you be acquiescent to me personalising the décor slightly?”

“Wench, you can rearrange the room and paint it blue if it makes you happy.” He had nuzzled her temple. “As long as I get to hang my kissing plant.”

She had decked the mantelpieces with fir, setting tiny candles along the edges and threading sprigs of rich red holly berries amidst the greenery. All whilst Jaime hovered indecisively in the centre of the floor, the branch of his prized flora held aloft.

After she had embellished half the room, he still stood stationary and she couldn’t keep herself mute any longer on the topic.

“Jaime just pick a place!”

“I can’t! This decision is important Brienne. The entire prospect of my being able to kiss you throughout the night resides solely in this placement.”

She had sidled up to him then, slipping within his arms and looping her own around his neck. “You don’t need the plant anymore… my lips are yours to claim at will. Here – I will show you.”

He had dropped the sprig upon the rug, letting it tumble to the ground as he embraced her. His prized import losing several white berries in the process. They had kissed at length, only stopping to come up for air when the staff interrupted, arriving to inform them that the first carriage-loads of guests were just hours away.

In the end Jaime had hung his rather worse for wear ‘kissing branch’ at the bottom of the main stairwell. Just in the right position to catch her unawares whenever she descended or passed through the spacious anteroom. A feat he had achieved at least four times already, watching her with avid interest whenever she exited, checking she was not walking under it. Her playful Lord fancying the sport of it almost as much as the prize itself.

_Sometime before bed, I fully intend coming to a complete stop beneath its leaves…_

Now hours later, she couldn’t help but admire the results of their handiwork; how the room smelt of pine and roast chestnuts, how the holly berries had been complimented upon - the pompous lions praising their shade of ‘Lannister Crimson’ - and how the fir boughs softened the appearance of the notoriously forbidding stronghold. The candles had been ignited, flickering enchantingly in all corners of the room, throwing light and life amongst the foliage. Their warm glow echoing that which emanated from her heart. 

“Sweetling…” Jaime tugged at her sleeve, removing the goblet from her hand. “…come. I must steal you away for a moment.”

Raising an eyebrow slightly, she eyed him questioningly. “This isn’t another scheme to do with your ceiling decoration is it?”

“No – but what a good idea.” He grinned. “I have a surprise for you.”

Anticipation fluttered beneath her ribcage. _One today – tomorrow is Yuletide._

She let him lead her through the arched doorway to a second smaller sitting room. Toasty of temperature and dimly lit by the fireplace, the sputtering prominent as the flames engulfed a massive log. Kissing her cheek, Jaime waved his arm towards the chaise by the hearth. “Happy Yuletide Eve Brienne.”

The warrior maid had no idea what she would find and that must have been the reason it took her brain a beat to register the figure sitting upon the cushions. Her cognizance playing catch up with her heart as she descried the brunette mop of floppy, thin hair and slight frame she knew so well. The boy she had given up for lost, another of her failings.

“Podrick!” Her voice was in equal measure a sob and yelp, as her oversized hand covered her mouth.

“Happy Yuletide Eve M-my Lady Ser.”

She knew he would think it strange. Would most likely find her much changed. But she couldn’t help bounding over to the seat and enveloping him in a hug. Distressed to feel his bones protruding beneath his skin, to see the dark necklace from a noose which matched her own.

“Jaime…” She stroked her faithful Squire’s hair. “You found him.”

“It took a lot of searching.” Her husband alighted on the lounge opposite them. “The Brotherhood hid him well and they were not keen upon disclosing his whereabouts - giving away the location of another hideout. By the time my men found him, he had been long abandoned. Squalid conditions and half-starved. He has been in the care of our Maester for a considerable length of time. I was afraid for him.”

Pod turned his big brown eyes up at her. “S-s-ser Jaime says you are married now. He has checked in on me every day. H-he says he loves you and that I can stay here.”

Wrapping her arm around the boy, she mouthed ‘thank you’ to her husband. Her own orbs enshrouded with the mist of relieved tears.

“You are a family.” Jaime twinkled softly. “All I ask is that perhaps you can accept me as part of it.”

“Of course.” She breathed, moved past a point of no return. Gone to a place where her love was limitless and her ties to her husband felt more physical than emotional. “You already are.”

“One Squire.” He nodded to himself, tacitly chuffed. “I look forward to getting to know him better.”

#######

“Where is the boy?” Jaime affected a casual air, leaning against the doorframe of the lavish anteroom. The carmine velour carpets stretching across the floor and up the massive staircase. He tried to imitate a big cat at rest, his façade a mummer’s show. For his muscles were poised to pounce the instant his woman stepped within the vicinity beneath his priceless plant. The radius in which he was entitled to collect a kiss.

His wife was fully attuned to his game. Halting just on the peripherals of the territory, teetering on the imaginary line as she answered. “Asleep. He is still recovering and this was a lot for him. For us both. I want to thank you again Jaime-“

“Brienne.” He used a gentle tone as he suspended her gratitude. Raising his hand, palm outwards, signalling for her to cease. “I have told you – no thanks is necessary. You are not indebted to me; you owe me nothing. I have done all because it is right…and because I love you.”

Her face was a picture of joy, half illuminated by the faint sconces which lined the stairs, the other half blurred by shade. Her freckles more appealing than the cinnamon which sprinkled their dessert, her skin beneath more ivory than the berries above them.

“Where is the pride?” His Brienne’s sapphires scintillated, the first bright with the reflection of flames, the second refracting ambient light in its facets. Both exuding a self-assurance and felicity which he had never witnessed before.

“Retired to their respective lairs.” Jaime lifted one shoulder in a dismissive shrug. “They knew if they continued their merriment past the hour of the Bat they were liable to lose tomorrow.” His timbre diminished to an enticing susurration. “We are quite alone My Lady.”

Then she grinned at him as with an effortless grace, gliding directly beneath his blessed sprig. Jaime mentally tallying all the ways in which the purchase was worthwhile as he scooped her into his arms, stretching upwards to kiss his pillar of a woman. His column of strength. The foundation of his life and purpose.

“You taste like the wine I chose…” He murmured, engrossed by the piquant hint of currants which clung to the insides of her mouth. “…. They say a vintage is best enjoyed from a goblet with an open bowl but I contend – those that make such assertions have clearly never savoured it from their wife’s tongue.”

She sighed against his lips as he leant back in, melting into him the way ice crystals seeped into the fabric of gloves when they were warmed over a fire. Rough edges and standoffish chill dissolving into liquid, pliable as she moulded against him, their mouths melding into one, both wanting and needy.

“I need to keep one of these plants all year round.” He quipped as he grinned, feeling his eyes crinkle at the corners as he stared unabashedly at the woman with whom he was besotted. Leaning into the touch of her hand in his beard, her fingers massaging his scalp through his hair. “Now what did I happen to overhear earlier Wench? Something you were saying to Aunt Genna? I’m not sure I quite caught it… let me see if I can recall…”

Brienne snorted in amusement, shaking her generally austere head from side to side.

“You know damn well Jaime Lannister.” She pecked his lips, an exquisite gift she had taken to bestowing upon him and each time she initiated the brush of a tender kiss he thanked all Seven Gods above for the phenomena. “I was telling her how I feel about you.”

His gentle warrior woman smoothed his curls back from his forehead whilst every one of her kaleidoscopic features seemed to smile. _Eyes, nose, cheeks, mouth._

“I love you. I have admittedly been in love with you since….” She licked her full bottom lip, struggling to give him an exact measuring point. “….Oathkeeper? The Bear Pit? The baths at Harrenhal? Either way it has been there all the while.” She gave him a glimpse of her disproportionate teeth as she added slyly. “Why do think I agreed to marry you so easily?”

“All this time?!” He almost couldn’t fathom it. Disbelief and elation causing his masculine tones to become slightly shrill as he japed. “You mean I could have been spared all this effort?! You have been mine since the onset?!”

“Quiet.” She rammed him with her shoulder trying to throw him off balance and damn near succeeding from her might alone. “My affections may yield but my obstinance was reluctant to follow, yet here we stand and I am conquered. Congratulations Lord husband. You breached my walls, invaded my soul and took up residency. Now my shields are lowered, my defences razed to the ground and my exposed and surprisingly delicate heart rests within your palm. I trust you not to crush it, for to do so would kill me at this point.”

_My spellbinding singular swordswench - only she would arrange a love declaration as if it were a military takeover._

“Be bolstered wife. For just as I safeguard yours – you too carry my own. It was a fair exchange, like for like. And I will cradle this treasure you have entrusted me with, the greatest gift of all and hope that in return you shelter mine.”

“With every ounce of strength in me.”

If the spirits of lions past prowled the halls still, or if the Red God existed and peered through flame.

If the walls retained memory and the night crackled with the esoteric form of ancient magic which imbued Yuletide Eve.

They would all be witness to two people standing beneath a tattered branch; kissing as though the world around them did not exist, acknowledgment of time, place and space irrelevant, completely consumed with each other.

#######

The distant Sept bells were still chiming melodiously into the night. Heralding midnight and with it the arrival of Yuletide. But it was not their clangour which awakened Jaime from his slumber, warm and snug beneath her blankets, a sizzling fireplace in the corner and his wench to cuddle into.

It was Brienne’s voice rousing him as his senses slowly returned, pulling him back from a realm of dreams and fantasy. Her weight leaning upon his torso, her fingers waltzing across his chest through his nightshirt. “Jaime…” Her mouth was heated against his neck. “… it is Yuletide.”

“I can hear that.” He mumbled sleepily. “We have not long gone to bed. I only just drifted off…”

Jaime blinked away the haze, lifting his heavy eyelids to discover Brienne staring at him keenly. Her nose almost touching his as a novel intent flickered within her boundless blue.

Something about its undercurrent hastily chased away the clinging vestiges of his drowsiness.

“Happy Yuletide husband.” She leant forward and leisurely kissed him, skilfully employing her tongue to wet his lips and every fibre in his system sparked, springing to life.

“Happy Yuletide wife.” He became aware of her fingers loosening his ties, lifting up the hem of his nightshirt. Jaime raised his arms to assist as she pulled it over his head, observing her deliberate movements in mystified captivation.

“I was wondering if you would like your present now...?” Brienne’s rich voice was canorous as she pressed kisses to his chest, searing a trail across the rise and fall of his muscles, the plumpness of her lips scorching against his skin, causing him to ripple with enjoyment. Her adroit hands untying the top knot of his breeches. Loosening them in pre-emptive assistance. “....Though I may require some upwrapping.”

She rolled onto her back and he moved with her in one fluid motion, swallowing her indulgent moan as he kissed her ardently. Grabbing clumsily at the flimsy buttons of her nightgown until he ripped them clean from the material. Threadbare edges fraying further when he shoved his hand beneath the fabric to cup her small breast. Fitting it precisely within his palm, kneading the soft pert flesh, rubbing her nipple deftly between forefinger and thumb as she arched into his touch.

_Gods she is so responsive…_

Nibbling his way down her front, he tugged impatiently at the silk, the tell-tale sound of tearing music to his ears as the nightgown split almost to her navel. Its remnants hanging loosely whilst he triumphantly replaced his fingers with his mouth. Suckling upon her teat until she whined, the piercing cry resonating with want. 

_And what she needs, I will always give her…_

Glancing down he noted how she had already bent her legs, raising them up from the mattress, collecting the hem of her long nightgown in her hand, crumpling it within her white-knuckled fist as she lifted it over her knees. Her other long arm drawing him back to her hungry lips.

With his single hand they worked together, a sole entity moving seamlessly. Reaching beneath to grasp the waistband of her smallclothes, one of them on either side, her hips lifting from the bed whilst in unison they shimmied her undergarments down her mile-long legs.

Rising to sit upon his knees, he homed in upon orbs of coruscating blue, their eye contact unbreaking when he took the reins for the last stretch of the journey, invisible bonds both verdant and azure streaming between them as he wriggled her smallclothes past her ankles, casting the last blockade separating them ceremoniously aside.

Conversations were no longer required in the transcendence of this moment. Verbalisation beyond the necessity of their intrinsic understanding. Innately aware of their bond more durable than iron, the chains of love which bound them stronger than the ribbon which had joined their hands during their vows. For that is what had always united them – the free will to love each other, their souls’ choice of their mate, their spirits’ recognition of their destined counterpart – irrespective of name, allegiances or differences. Irrefutable love their perfervid hearts’ creed. 

Jaime slid his hand up her calve, journeying reverently over the expanse of her legs, gathering the gauzy fabric along his journey, until it lay crumpled in the crease of her thigh. Pausing he worshipped her endless lengths, bringing his lips to each cluster of freckles upon her shins, her knees. Entranced by the artistry of these assets, giving him a precious commodity to touch, to kiss, an insignia unique to his woman, making her more attractive than she would ever give herself credit.

But then he glimpsed higher. The immaculate perfection that were her thighs. It had been too long since he had seen them in Harrenhal, a flash of dripping delectation coupled with a blonde copse which had immediately drawn his eye. Now he could drink it in. The full sight.

_Self-control be damned._

He nipped at the tender flesh, pure ivory where the charming dots ceased, revealing innocent, immaculate white. A canvas blank and unbesmirched where every tiny move from his lips elicited a cry from her mouth which drove him to distraction.

Eager to get at more, he nudged her legs apart, nosing closer, diving in.

Breathing in the scent of her arousal as he ran a deliberate finger along the seam he had only felt before, where thigh gave way to her sweet folds.

It was there that he traced now, the wondrous valley of her slit, parting petals and encircling the divine sweet nub, inserting his index finger into her depths, encouraged by her pyretic mumblings, the hand which grasped for his stump. Holding the mangled end of his arm, her grip increasing with each wave of pleasure.

_But she doesn’t yet know the half of it…._

Grinning salaciously, he gently withdrew his finger, stealing a glance to see the disappointment in her readable face, before dipping his head to lick at her bud with a purposeful tongue. Inspired to seek his prize by her whimpers and pleas, as he delved lower, slipping inside. The sweetest nectar from the bloom. Like a bee drawn to its flower, yearning to produce more of the honey.

At long last lapping at the heavenly fountain of her core whilst she writhed, screaming his name as he brought her to the threshold of all earthly delights.

She was still quivering from her peak when he slunk back up her form, kissing and savouring every inch of her as he went. Relishing the taste of her as it lingered upon his tongue, the secret flavour only he would ever know. Nuzzling her neck and pressing his own throbbing loins against her.

“Jaime please…” Brienne was already tugging his breeches down, rolling the fabric past his hips. “I want you properly. I want to be a wife to my husband…”

Unable to resist any longer he peeled the material from his legs, tossing it carelessly and settling between her muscular thighs as she wrapped her full lengths around him, clamping him there with the undeniable force of her power and yearning.

“It may hurt…”

“Believe me Jaime, nothing can ache as direly as how much I need you.”

Her contralto purring his name, asserting her need, was empyrean in its beauty, equalled only by the rapturous feel of her when he finally crossed her gateway. The way she welcomed him and clenched around his shaft ascending him into blinding bliss.

“Brienne...” He rocked steadily into her, feeling her move in sync with him, bravely meeting him thrust for thrust.

They were one. Whole. No more divisions in place.

No more worrying that she secretly despised him or would turn him away. No more fearing he would lose this person whom he loved without boundaries.

Who he would live for, die for, move mountains for if they were blocking her from basking in the sun. 

“Brienne - I love you.”

He couldn’t not say it, he craved her to hear it. As she became his lover and gave of herself, he needed her to understand, to believe, to…

“I know.” She met his eyes, her expirations heavy against his cheek. “I know. I love you too.”

He gave himself over to his heart and body. Attending to his consort with fawning devotion. Coaxing and conducting her through her second cresceñdo where each sigh from her lips played like a ballad. 

  
Her incredible body vibrating with the thrill of their coupling. 

His ignited by the completeness of being joined with his woman.

  
  
Each chord she struck was incendiary, as he stroked her, urged her closer. Finding that spot within her dewy heat which made them both groan, grabbing at each other more insistently. Each squeeze of her legs spurring him on faster, harder. His efforts rewarded with each clamp and quavering cry. 

  
  
In the end it was her voice which sent him over the edge, coming undone as he listened to her new octave. Found only through the fulfilment of him inside her, his touch making her sing his name like a hymn. Quaking and trembling beneath him in earth shattering ecstasy as she mewled, “I'm yours, I'm yours, I'm yours.”   
  
A growl ripped from his throat - then he was shouting along with her. Nonsense and poetry. Idioglossia and sonorous words. Clutching at her as his climax whipped through his system, robbing him of identity and memory. Devoid of thought patterns, sight and sound. 

All there was in that moment - all there ever could be for the rest of his life - was Brienne. 

His Brienne. And the way she felt wrapped around him.


	14. Yuletide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne's POV
> 
> Cover Art by Ro_Nordmann  
> [](https://www.flickr.com/photos/185980079@N02/49211612893/in/dateposted-public/)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beginning is NSFW :)

“Wench!” Her lion grumbled playfully, as she nibbled his ear, toying with the lobe between her teeth.  
Her room was bright, reflections of sunlight bouncing off snowdrifts somehow making its way past the drawn drapes. 

Jaime chuckled, stifling a yawn whilst she straddled his hips. “I think it's next Yuletide.”   
  
Ignoring his spate of blustering, Brienne pressed her lips to his, drawing him into a long seductive kiss which made him shiver beneath her. A sigh whistled between his teeth and she felt other parts of him twitch with life.  
  


“I… want… my… husband…..” She dragged out the pronunciation of each word, scratching her nails down his chest and canting her hips.   
“You've had me wife - more than once. Why else would I feel so thoroughly spent?” His countenance teemed with jocularity, his actions in contrast to his protestations as he ran his hand up her thigh.

She banished the blush which threatened to darken her satisfied rosy cheeks to a deeper crimson. 

So they had barely slept? Dozing sporadically between bouts of learning each other's preferences. Snatching the sleep of the slaked before their starving libidos remembered what better things they could be doing, how long they had waited for this very opportunity. 

Brienne was not going to be bashful about that, the time for shrinking had passed. Maiden no more, she was now a woman completely enamoured with her man - and obsessed with the new capabilities she had discovered in both their bodies.  
  
“Not so worn out…“ She raised an eyebrow suggestively, leaning in to his growing arousal. Raising up to her full height above him, granting him full visibility of her bare skin, the shreds of her former nightgown long sacrificed in the pursuit of their pleasure. Displaying every inch of her – imposingly tall, straight of spine, taut of abdomen and high firm teats, blemished with new small bite marks from her lion’s enthusiasm.

Butterflies fluttered in her lower stomach as she watched Jaime devour her with leonine eyes. His manhood becoming uncomfortably firm, jutting into the indentation of her inner thigh.  
“Well I do so like the view.” His trademark lopsided smirk twitched up his cheek. “Can I expect awakenings like this often or are they reserved specifically for Yule?”  
  
“I foretell them quite often Lannister.” She moistened her bottom lip with her tongue. “If you are up for the challenge.”  
“Oh I see sparring begins very early these days. Before we are even out of bed.” He sat up with a jolt, enveloping her naked form in his arms. Nuzzling his way down her clavicle, his beard grazing its way across her sternum, the spiky bristles teasing the tender skin of her breast, capturing her nipple between his lips.  
  
“You were right.” Her voice was abraded, barely audible as she rasped the phrase out, so far lost in the sensations. “We are good at this. It does transfer from battlefield to bed.”  
“I get to make love to my wife **and** she concedes that I was correct about something…” His tenor thrummed against her speckled bosom. “...this is a good Yuletide indeed. Wonders abound.”

  
His audacity earnt him a forceful shove, landing backwards upon the mattress with a whack, his startled chortle echoing into the chamber.  
“You also mentioned that I can be rough.” Smiling lasciviously, she leant over him, watching the rapid expansion and retraction of his chiselled abdomen as he breathed heavily. Even his skin seeming scented by their lust.

“Be very careful husband, pace yourself...” She laved his lips and jaw with her tongue until his hips bucked against hers, seeking her friction and slick warmth. “I am skilled at looking for my partner’s weakness and I already know my stamina can outlast yours....”

  
He ran his stump up her spine, causing tingling to burst throughout her heightened nerve endings. His hand splayed upon the small of her back pulling her into him as she friskily simpered. 

“…and you may not be getting restful sleep for nights.”

#######

“I just hope we are not too late downstairs.” Jaime struggled with the fastenings of his vermilion doublet, the velveteen garment slashed with gold and fixed in front by buttons fashioned in the shape of lions. He winced dramatically as he lifted the bedroom curtain, dropping it again and swearing under his breath, continuing to fight with the trivial task. “Thank goodness they ingested copious amounts of alcohol last night, that should have been enough to prevent any obscenely early risers but from the looks of things out there the hour may be past what we think.”

Brienne clipped the golden chain around her neck, positioning the sapphire in the valley of her bosom, nestled against her own velvet doublet. In a rare exception to her usual reaction, she grinned when she peered at her reflection in the looking glass. The garment a feminised replica of her husband’s - but where his had gold, hers had blue. Her own fastenings were petite, allowing her to embellish the ensemble with the ornate jewellery set which she had affectionately taken to nicknaming ‘Five Golden Declarations.’

“I’m coming.” She strode over to Jaime, slapping his hands away, her dexterous fingers making quick work of dressing him. “It took me an age to get the hair comb to stay in my straw.”

“Isn’t that what you have ladies for?”

“But then I don’t get the fun of listening to you prattle on about the perils of your wardrobe.” Placing her palm against Jaime’s chest she leaned in for a kiss, knowing she would feel too timid once in front of his family to openly display her ardour. The romance and strain of prying themselves from each other’s embrace and their marital bed still lingering in her system.

“You look striking you know.” He nudged her as she fidgeted modestly with the buckle of her swordbelt. “I like the style, it gives you a commanding presence which I find very fetching – though I must confess I preferred the outfit you were wearing earlier, more natural….”

Chuckling at his innuendo, she smoothed the soft fibres of his garment, removing the phantom handprint her touch had left in the fabric, the revelatory give away to their amatory activities. “Well I don’t know if it does anything to compliment me but I feel confident in it.” She kissed his cheek. “And I feel good in general today…not sure why that is.”

“You know damn well Wench…”

She feinted to the left when he lunged for her with a carnal growl, cross stepping and laughing to avoid his stranglehold. “Jaime! You were just the one saying how we need to get downstairs!” Brienne held him at bay with palms outstretched, like an animal tamer from distant Essos keeping a wild lion from pouncing. “And I’ve found a downside to these doublets, every time one of us lays a paw upon the other it shows.”

“Sounds like I will have to be creative then.”

He dropped his arms limply to his sides, standing pole straight to obediently kiss her without disturbing the grain of the velour.

“Oh, on a serious note there is one thing I have to tell you before we are with company.” Brienne observed a dullness enter his eyes, where only seconds before had been light and fire.

_He hides it well but whatever this thought is troubles him…_

“There is a tincture of tansy in the east-wing kitchen. I had it acquired in secret – it is assumed most noble couples are trying to conceive but… I will never try to tie you down or clip your wings. You are a fighter and a warrior; I know that and I respect it. Therefore, the draught is there if you want to prevent becoming pregnant.” He nodded once definitely before letting solemnity dissipate, sauntering towards the door and beaming. “Let’s go my love – hopefully we can sneak in without attracting too much interest.”

#######

As they walked through the hallways of Casterly Rock things were suspiciously quiet. Each room illuminated by candlelight and pinned back curtains but absent of their cacophonous relatives.

_Where are they all?_

She threw Jaime a look of puzzlement but he seemed to be in a similarly bewildered state.

“Mayhaps it is earlier than I originally thought?” 

They entered the drawing room arm in arm, finding it identically devoid of life. The only signs of inhabitancy being the fire spitting merrily in the hearth and the assortment of presents which had been piled on the rug. Towers of boxes and items swaddled in fine fabrics, bound by satin ribbons and finished with gaudy bows. 

Brienne tried not to be overtly inquisitive of the treasure trove – knowing that everyone would gather later for their unveiling – but she still managed to spy hers out of the corner of her eye. Easily catching sight of the only gift wrapped in blue and unmistakably shield shaped.

She bit her lips in an attempt to stifle her amusement but it was too late – Jaime had noticed, favouring her with an apologetic shrug.

“Well disguised husband.”

“I only have one hand!” His favourite excuse had become a fall back, one he knew she could not refute. “I already had to dig it out of the back of my wardrobe. I almost forgot where I’d hidden it given the pleasant diversions of that evening.” His teeth were whiter than the snow beyond the window, his grin brighter than every taper which stood upon their sill. “Is it too much to hope that we have been left to our own devices?”

“Wishful thinking…” She ambled towards him, her carriage not matching her practical words. “…and highly unrealistic.”

Curving slightly to reach his mouth, Brienne had only felt the first tantalising skim of Jaime’s lips upon hers when as if on cue booming laughter reverberated down the corridor.

Furrowing both their brows in consternation, they followed the trail of the noise, the waves of sound becoming more strident as they neared the Grand Dining Hall. The clashing aromas of multiple savoury dishes hovering in the air like a pungent cloud. 

Appearing in the arched doorway and surveying the room - her jaw dropped open in shock.

The elongated table was covered end to end in Yuletide fare, lunch already well underway. Platters of every meat and festive delicacy imaginable crammed onto the wood with barely space enough for a candle left between. The entire extended family were gathered around in their high-backed chairs, two left conspicuously empty in the centre – the settings of honour for the Lord and Lady of the House.

Brienne felt her blood turn to ice, freezing in her veins from mortification, rocking back on her heel as Jaime caught her from behind and began to chortle, drawing the attention of the nearest guest…

_He looks like a lion – Ser Daven?_

The bushy man cheered loudly, raising his hands in a round of applause which was soon picked up by Ser Addam, the jest sweeping through the clan like wildfire. There was even the odd low whistle.

A manservant appeared at their side, addressing them formally. “My Lord, My Lady, Happy Yuletide - would you like me to announce your arrival?”

Jaime shook his head, his golden mane flying, greatly entertained by the turn of events. “Thank you but no. I think we have made quite the entrance enough already.”

Brienne turned towards her husband, marbles wider than the ocean, stricken with embarrassment. “Jaime… I can’t possibly…”

“They are laughing with us my love and the jape is in good humour, at **both** of our expense.” He held out his hand invitingly. “If you can’t beat them?”

Trusting him she placed her palm into his, reluctantly letting him lead her into the hubbub. 

Trying to ignore the ribbing whilst Jaime pulled out her chair with his right arm and she sank defeatedly into it. 

“Happy Yuletide – there’s what an hour of it left?”

“Look who finally decided to join us!”

“My Lords and Ladies we have the newlyweds!”

“Thank you.” Jaime gave a mock bow before sweeping grandiosely into his seat. “And might I add it was ever so kind of you all to wait for us – considering we are your hosts.”

“After what we all heard?” Daven called down the expanse of timber. “We didn’t think you would surface until moonrise!”

_Oh Gods…_

Scanning the revellers, Brienne found Podrick, his brown pools gaping at her from beneath daunted eyebrows on the opposite side of the table. All she could do was mouth ‘I’m sorry.’

“In truth I had a silver stag on late afternoon.” Ser Marbrand chimed in, raising his cup in toast to Jaime. “Therefore I’m the closest.”

“Why thank you Addam –“ Jaime snatched his own goblet. “-When I’m in need of moral support I always know I can rely on you…”

The men guffawed and she might had been annoyed if Jaime’s emeralds did not manage to shine in such an intoxicating way, his exuding charisma outshining every other man at the table.

_I love him so much._

“Tsk, tsk!” Aunt Genna’s tone brooked no argument, quickly shutting down all the Knights into silence. “That’s enough of that - no more bawdiness. Nephew-“ She narrowed her eyes at Daven who slumped back in his chair. “It is Yuletide. A time for family – which I don’t see either of you contributing to by the way.” She waved her hand, gesturing between Daven and Addam. “We should be thankful we are all together, for who knows when the next shall be or how times will have changed.”

The Lannisters descended into a thoughtful silence, the sole sound the scraping of cutlery against porcelain as they absorbed the gravity of her wise words.

The servers came around, both Jaime and Brienne requesting what they would like to sample, choosing opposite dishes so they could sup off each other’s plates.

Gradually conversation resumed, turning the topic to one universally appealing on this special occasion – gifts. Each declaring what they wanted and musing about the likelihood of actually receiving it.

One of the younger boys - Red Walder - was still very much a child of Summer, the page speaking up with his list of lofty expectations. “For Yuletide I would like a full chainmail hauberk, a greatsword with a silver hilt set with sapphires, a trained peregrine and a new Courser.”

Brienne sipped from her cup trying to disguise her reaction. Jaime turned completely towards her, hiding his snigger. “We’re rich.” He offered by way of explanation.

“Good lad!” Emmon Frey sat beside his wife, filled with almost as many supercilious aspirations as his son. “Aim high. Why we are the noble House Frey of Riverrun now. There is nothing wrong with knowing what you want.”

Genna regarded her husband with an especially scornful expression. “Only it rather sets him up for disappointment.” She leant over the table towards her son, her ample bosom resting rather comically upon the panel of mahogany. “Walder, if you honestly think all those items are sitting within that _lone_ pile in the other room – which contains presents meant for _everybody_ I might add - you are in for quite the let-down.” Sullen and chastened the boy went back to pushing his peas around his plate.

The matriarchal Lannister huffed, shifting her focus to the couple in front of her.

“And how about you lovebirds?” She glanced from one to the other. “Any special requests for Yuletide?”

Jaime was quick to respond, radiating happily between his wife and aunt. “Well it is no great mystery what I got my Brienne. We passed through the drawing room before and the wrappings or lack thereof quite gave away the shape.”

“Nephew!” She tittered, wiping her mouth on a napkin. “You should have taken more care!”

Brienne covered his hand with hers, jumping in with further details. “Not at all. What you don’t know is that he has been spoiling me consistently for the last twelve days before Yuletide. He surprised me with a different offering each day and they were the most magnificent and thoughtful of gestures I could ever have envisaged.” The warrior woman pointed to her outfit and the trinkets adorning her ears and neck. 

“Oooh, I stand corrected. The lion has outdone himself, living up to the family reputation. Well done.” Jaime beamed at the praise and now it was her turn. “So, Lady Brienne, what shall you be contributing to return his generosity hmmm? The stakes are high it would seem.”

Brienne took a deep breath, looking first to Aunt Genna and then to Jaime. His face was illuminated at the prospect of another present.

_And I know how much he liked last night’s…_

“To be completely honest - I was very uncertain what to get my Jaime. He has everything that money can provide and lives in the grandest of luxury. But fortunately, I know there is only one thing he really does want…” She let her gaze settle upon the man she loved, her golden husband who opened up his heart and home to her. With him she would build a life, a legacy – a family.

Smiling shyly, she allowed her choice of words to discreetly reveal to Jaime her decision for his gift. “….so I hope it is already on the way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Yuletide! 
> 
> Here I sit upon December 25th, having immensely enjoyed sharing the Christmas Season with my fellow Braime shippers.  
> And of course our hero and heroine - Jaime and Brienne.  
> Befittingly I wrap up this tale on Christmas Day. 
> 
> A couple of thank you messages -  
> First thank-you to Ro_Nordmann for making the lovely Cover Art, I have never had imagery for one of my fics before and every time I watched the cover come up at the beginning of a chapter it made it feel just that bit more real. :)  
> The second thank you goes out to ilikeblue for being a supportive friend and listening to me whenever I get a case of the jitters - I really appreciate it! 
> 
> And the third and final thank you goes to each and every one of my readers. I am moved beyond that you took the time to share your holiday season with myself and my tale. It is not an exaggeration when I say that each comment was better than receiving a Christmas present. I often say how writing is my dream, so in my world and heart, your kind words about my story mean more to me than any wrapped gifts beneath a tree. <3
> 
> Be assured I am writing more tales about Jaime & Brienne - so please check back often or subscribe. :)
> 
> I suppose all that's left to say is - Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, Yuletide Greetings!  
> Madelyn <3


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